


I, Barnes

by debwalsh



Series: Phantom of the Tower [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (talk of) assisted suicide, 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock Warming, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Couch Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Docking, Doggy Style, Edging, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, First Time, Food Sex, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Cuddling, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Uniform Kink, Virgin Steve Rogers, Voyeurism, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 76,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve finally finds Bucky and brings him home to New York, their reunion doesn't go as planned. Bucky disappears into the bowels of the tower, avoiding Steve at all costs.  </p><p>Bucky believes himself to be broken beyond repair, unworthy of any contact with Steve Rogers. But having finally gotten a taste of being around Steve again, Bucky can't just leave - he needs Steve. In ways he believes prove he's a monster unfit to live.</p><p>16Jul16 - The Epilogue is finally posted.  This story is now complete.<br/>14Jul16 - Chapter 18 is finally posted.  The final chapter.  Only the epilogue to go.<br/>4Jul16 - A birthday gift for Steve Rogers on his 98th birthday - chapter 17!  And soon to follow, the final chapter (for real), and then the epilogue.  Watch this space.</p><p>Thank you for your patience while I've worked through a shit-ton of emotions and life the past 18 months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Am Broken

**Author's Note:**

> With all the lovely Halloween fiction being posted at the time (October 2014), I wanted to play with the idea. Bucky believes he's broken, stitched together from the leftovers of the man known as Bucky - he's Frankenstein's monster. He's avoiding Steve, assuming his feelings mean he's a monster. Little does he know ...

When Steve and his friends finally caught up with James Buchanan Barnes, he was living in a simple stone house in the hills outside Azzano in Italy. In the end, Steve supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was in Azzano that Bucky had last been in full possession of himself, before Schmidt’s Tesseract-powered forces had captured the 107th, and Zola had first experimented on Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. It was in Azzano that James Buchanan Barnes had watched the men serving under him cut to pieces by the Tesseract weapons, ground under the unforgiving tread of the Tesseract-powered tanks, obliterated by the inhuman power of the Tesseract beams. It was in Azzano that James Buchanan Barnes’s soul had been laid waste, and so it was in a house, quiet, tumble-down and forgotten by all but an enterprising real estate agent, that James Buchanan Barnes had sought peace, sought that elusive soul that he’d lost so many years before.

In the 70 years since the war, nearly all trace of it had faded from the landscape. There were still buildings in ruin, still places where the land was pocked with holes from mortar fire and more arcane weaponry. Still places where nothing would grow, the soil infected by the Tesseract, by the evil that was and is Hydra.

They – Sam and Natasha and sometimes Tony and Pepper and Clint and Bruce and even Colonel Rhodes, and then Coulson when he’d allowed them to know he was alive, and his team – they’d all followed the glorious trail of destruction James Buchanan Barnes had forged across the world, leaving Hydra cells and Hydra facilities – many once belonging to SHIELD – in smoking ruin, their secrets posted to the Internet as personnel died screaming or gurgling on blood welling up from broken bodies and ruptured organs, as demolished equipment spun gouts of flame and spiraling smoke to dance a macabre dance of death, as buildings and bunkers and base camps collapsed in on themselves, courtesy not of the Winter Soldier, but of the man who’d been broken and remade here in Azzano, courtesy of one James Buchanan Barnes.

At each site he’d carved his Army serial number, whether it be in stone, or steel or once living flesh. He left his signature for any who might venture into the hell he’d wrought, the purifying fire he’d unleashed upon the earth in his search for redemption.

To Steve, it had always said one thing.

_Come find me._

And so, Steve did. 

They’d pinpointed him here, in this quiet spot on the lee of a hill, an old white stone building gradually dissolving back into the hillside, surrounded by tall grasses and the remnants of a forest that had once stood here. Steve thought he might even remember this place from the long march back to the base all those years ago, but he couldn’t be sure. There’d been so many places ravaged by the war, so many places that would never be the same after the conflict had moved on. So many places where landmarks had been blasted into memory and then nothing.

He went in alone, but the others – the entire team – remained on standby, some on the ground, like Natasha and several of Coulson’s team, some from above, like Tripp and Tony and Rhodey, some from vantage points where they could launch at the slightest hitch in his breath, like Sam and Clint and May.

The world’s mightiest heroes and their friends. All assembled to take down one man.

Steve understood, really he did. But he knew it wasn’t necessary. He’d known since waking up in the hospital after the helicarriers had come down, after Hydra had exploded out of the corpse of SHIELD, after he’d been recovered on the bank of the Potomac.

James Buchanan Barnes – _Bucky_ would never hurt him. Never again.

He’d come to take Bucky home.

And so he stood before the heavy wooden door, an artifact even older than he was, and that made him smile. It was freshly painted red, and the brass doorknob – a recent addition, he suspected – gleamed as though it were polished every day. There was no knocker on the door, so Steve simply stood up straight, smoothed down the front of his t-shirt, adjusted the set of his leather jacket, and dusted his fingers through his hair before nodding to himself, ignored the taunting through his comm from Tony, and he simply knocked. And waited.

&&&

In the month since James had returned to New York and taken up residence in Stark Junior’s tower, in the month since Steve had arrived at his doorstep with his impossible, hopeful and damning smile, in the month since James had stopped running, stopped setting the world ablaze, stopped … simply stopped … he had discovered nearly every place it was possible for a full-grown human male to secrete himself within Stark’s tower. He’d explored the air vents, the cooling systems, the substructures and maintenance tunnels, the rooftops, the guts and sinew of the building and its furthest points. He knew the power source was buried off shore beyond the bay, but it linked to the tower through conduits as thick as his thigh, and that meant access tunnels large enough for him to shimmy through, and junctions large enough for him to set up camp, and places where he could be alone and listen to the sound of nothingness.

In the month since James had allowed himself to be brought back to New York, he’d spent one night in Steve’s company, and Steve had not seen him since. He watched Steve from his vantage points inside the building’s circulatory system, and sometimes he’d query the AI, Jarvis, for Steve’s status. He’d uncoil himself from his hiding places in the middle of the night, slip into Steve’s apartment and accept the offering of food, clean clothes, blanket, bedding. He could move like vapor, and he’d wash his plate and utensils and leave them drying on the drainboard, not making a sound, not even the splash of water, so he wouldn’t wake Steve. He’d put his things in the washing machine off the gymnasium complex, in the quiet of the night, when no one was around. He was a good tenant, albeit an elusive one.

He knew that sometimes, Steve would try to wait up to catch a glimpse of James. Sometimes, those were the nights that James went hungry, because he wouldn’t risk contact. Couldn’t risk contact. Sometimes on those nights, he’d make his way to the communal floor, and make himself a snack from the big refrigerator there. Sometimes he’d run into Stark, or Barton, or Romanoff. Sometimes Banner. They’d always give him a curious look, a hand half-raised in greeting, a question poised on their lips (“Do you want …?” or “Would you like …?” or “Does Steve know …?”), but most nights, they’d turn away in silence.

Most nights, he could see the fear in their eyes. The fear that what they’d brought into their home, into their tower, wasn’t really human after all. Feral, violent, broken, stitched together from fragments and raw bits leftover from the man who’d been ground to dust and reformed by Hydra.

They were right to fear him. He feared himself. Feared what he might do if left in human company too long. Feared what he might be forced to live with.

And damn them, they wouldn’t put him down. Wouldn’t give him the release he craved. Because of Steve.

When he’d opened that door in Azzano, he hadn’t embraced his old friend, hadn’t greeted Steve with a smile and a welcome. No. He’d opened the door and pressed a gun into Steve’s hand, his favorite Sig, and closed Steve’s fingers around the butt, and begged Steve to end it for him. 

Because the one piece of Hydra programming James Buchanan Barnes had not been able to overcome had been the preservation command. He had not been able to take his own life. He could not terminate Hydra’s weapon, even as he’d broken through every other piece of programming in his scorched earth tour. He had not been able to end his suffering, end the nightmares and the guilt and the horror, with a simple pressure on trigger of a gun, or the swipe of a blade, or the taste of poison, or even simply stepping off a mountain. The command doomed him to live, and he needed someone to release him from his curse.

But Steve had refused. And in his refusal, he had frozen the others. They didn’t dare take him out for fear of upsetting Steve. Captain America. No, when he looked around on those rare nights when he’d slip onto the public floor of the tower penthouse, it was Steve they honored. Their friend. The man whose blue eyes spoke of pain and loss and longing. The man whose blue eyes cut him to the core of his broken soul and made him cry out in anguish and in torment that he couldn’t be the better man, the better man had been burned out of him decades ago.

All that was left was the damaged husk, the leftovers. The cobbled together flesh and bone parts of a man, not the man himself.

Hydra’s monster, animated death. Nightmare made flesh.

There hadn’t been a platform rising up through the castle to capture the lightning to breathe life into the dead body, no mad scientist shrieking into the storm, “It’s alive!”. But there had been electricity, horrible in its intensity, in its cleansing fire as it burned away his memories and left him empty, to be filled by the hate of men who never should have drawn breath.

They didn’t breathe any longer. He’d seen to that.

He did come out of hiding for calibration by Stark Junior. He never seemed to sleep, and if James showed up in his labs near the base of the building in the middle of the night, Stark Junior could be counted on to fix whatever was ailing the arm, and he continued to tinker with a replacement arm, something he’d promised James on the flight back from Italy.

The only time anyone saw him during the daylight hours was when he was expected to see his therapist. In those first few days in the tower, it had been made clear that one of the conditions of his parole was that he saw the therapist on a regular basis, and so he did. He rarely spoke, but he appeared at every appointment given him. He kept his promise, marginally, and they kept theirs. They, in turn, allowed him to prowl the tower, live relatively free, and not confined to a nine-by-nine with an exposed toilet and lights that never went off. He got the better end of the deal, really.

It surprised him that Steve didn’t show up at those appointments. They were scheduled after all. But no, his old friend – because James could remember Steve, small, feisty, sickly, and tall, somber and powerful – seemed willing to give him his space, his privacy. He knew it had to pain him, he saw the sad face, the lost face, that Steve wore all the time now. The others tried to draw him out, invited him to social events and competitions and things that James knew he’d like, but Steve would shake his head and hang back, waiting, always waiting.

It hurt James more than he would credit to see that look of hurt and longing on Steve’s face

James wondered if he shouldn’t leave him a note when he dropped in to eat or pick up clean laundry, shouldn't tell him to let go. But he wasn’t Bucky. He was just the revenant that had taken up residence in Bucky's corpse. If he wasn’t going to kill James, then he didn’t have a claim, and he should just let go.

But that would mean that James would have to let go, too. And he might not sleep in Steve’s apartment, or sit across from him at the dinner table, or settle in on the couch and watch movies with Steve, or reach out and _touch_ , but now that he was here, he could never be far from Steve. He might not be Bucky, but he had Bucky’s need. He was on a tether line that never unspooled long enough to let him leave. He never tried to leave.

Because if he ever spoke to his therapist, he’d have to admit that what brought him back from the brink wasn’t a lack of reprogramming by Hydra. It had simply been knowing that Steve was alive. Those last moments on the helicarrier had been as painful as any memory wipe, as memory had resurfaced, blazing across his neural pathways and igniting patterns of recognition, chains and branches and whole highways of memory. All of them ablaze with Steve, burning even in the absence of Steve. Leaving his brain seared clean in the aftermath, made new. Not whole. Never whole. But functional, for a time, at least.

And then he’d had to go after Hydra, to make the world a place safe enough for Steve to live in it. A cleansing fire of righteousness wielded not by an archangel, but by the dead.

And when Steve had refused to give him rest, refused to help him die, he’d had no choice but to remove himself from Steve’s immediate vicinity, but he couldn’t go far. Couldn’t bear to be far, once he’d had a taste again of being near Steve again.

But he was broken. Inhuman. Plagued by desires that no sane man should have. He couldn’t risk. He wouldn’t risk.

And so, he lived, arm’s length away, but never in sight. Never out of reach. Standing guard.

&&&

“This isn’t healthy, you know.”

Steve wound the tape around his knuckles, drawing it taut as he flexed his fingers, straining against the tape to ensure it seated properly. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the common refrain of Natasha’s words.

“You could say something. You could tell him to come home to you. Or talk to Stark, have him set up a suite for him to live by himself. You can’t just keep waiting for him to come back.” She fell silent for a moment, critically eying the throwing stars Stark had designed for her. “And it’s not at all creepy having him living in the vents. Phantom of the Tower.”

Steve went to work on the other hand, eyes locked on his preparations. If he didn’t say anything for long enough, she’d run out of words. Wouldn’t she?

“You could always just give him up. Turn him over to the government, let them sort him out. If he’s not even going to talk to you Steve, what do you owe him? He practically killed you – if you’d been anyone but you, he would’ve. It’s clear he’s not the man you remember.”

Her voice took on a small, grumbling quality, as though she were losing steam. It was a well-worn path of logic she traversed out loud. Bucky had left Steve’s side almost as soon as he’d set foot in the tower, and Steve hadn’t seen him since, not in a month since Bucky had come here. He showed up sometimes where the others could see him, and he always went to his therapist appointments, but Steve hadn’t seen him. Not a glimpse, not a peek, not a shadow. But the pressure of his presence in the tower was with him always. He could feel him moving in the guts of the building, could feel him watching sometimes. Even his dreams were affected, and he’d swear his subconscious knew when Bucky was in his apartment, even if he was so quiet he didn’t actually wake him.

He decided to play his part in this circular _pas de deux_ as he began his stretching exercises. “He comes to my apartment sometimes. Most nights. He eats the food I leave for him. Washes his dishes. He takes the clothes I set out for him. The blanket and pillow.”

“We find them in the gym washing machine and return them to you.”

Touch the toes and reach for the sky. It’s out there, somewhere above the many, many floors of Stark Tower. “And I pass them back. He’s not who I remember, no. But I’m not who he remembers, either.”

“You’re still Captain America.”

Arch the back and try to touch the floor, backwards, ass over head. Listen to the vertebrae pop. “I wasn’t. For most of the time we knew each other, I wasn’t. And I never was with him. I was only ever Steve.”

“You don’t owe him anything, Steve.”

Roll the shoulders and shake out the hands. “I do. I owe him my life. The least I can do for him is give him back his.”

“Without you.”

Walk over to the bag and drop into the stance. There’s comfort in routine. Stability. A barrier between him and the pain. “If that’s what he wanted, I could give him that. But what he wants is for me to take it. He wants me to kill him. I can’t do that. I’m not that kind. I’m too selfish. I can’t bear the thought of the world without him in it. And he hates me for that.”

“Oh, Steve. He doesn’t hate you.”

One well-placed punch, and the bag went flying. “You don’t know Bucky, Natasha.”

&&&

They didn’t allow him weapons when he came to the tower, so he had to make his own. A pop gun made from tubing, scrapings from various points in the tower to create a spark and accelerant, projectiles formed from flotsam that others might consider trash. Shrapnel made of metal shavings. It might blow up in his hand, but he had ways of protecting himself if necessary. Just because someone told him he was safe didn’t make it so.

He was quite capable of improvising. 

Like his knife. He liked the feel of a knife in his hands, the heft and the weight of it. Feeling it toss up into the air, spin, and return to the safety of his grip, weighted and solid in his hand. They wouldn’t allow him a knife.

So he made one. 

And now he sat in the vents near Steve’s apartment, flipping his knife silently in his hand, waiting. He’d found that if he tucked his shoulders in just right, he could shimmy down the airshaft to the central air grate directly in Steve’s bedroom, the better to observe him. The better to protect him. He might be big and carry a shield and everyone thought he was a fucking hero, but he was still that dumb kid from Brooklyn who never knew when to walk away from a fight.

Yeah. He didn’t know how to walk away.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

So when James heard the front door of the apartment crash open – literally, he was sure there would be a hole in the wall where the door knob hit the drywall – James removed anything non-essential, folded in on himself, and slithered into his observation point overlooking Steve’s bedroom. He was observing, not spying.

Steve stormed in, skin-tight t-shirt stained with sweat and grime, and he ripped it off in frustration. Poor t-shirt didn’t stand a chance, and Steve actually ripped right through the fabric. He stared at the tatters in his fist and groaned, flinging it away toward the trash can. It hung on the side of the can, half-in, half-out. Steve glared at it sourly and sank down on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands.

“Fuck,” he swore, his elbows dropping to his thighs, and he just sat there for a long while, face covered in his hands, shoulders gently moving.

Crap, was Steve _crying_?

“Dammit, Buck,” Steve said at last, wrenching his hands away from his face and lifting it up. Blotchy, red, tear-streaked. _Shit_.

James could not remember ever having done something to make Steve cry before. Yeah, asking your erstwhile best friend to put a bullet in your brain may have that effect.

James watched as Steve erupted off the bed, pacing the room angrily, worrying his thumbnail with his teeth. It was an old habit, the need to gnaw. Pencils, erasers, nails, toothpicks. He remembered finding things with frayed, chewed up ends all the time in their old apartment. No use telling Steve to kick the habit – he rarely even knew he did it, just chewed stuff up and spit it out, leaving it all over their living space.

Huh. What an odd thing to remember. He remembered it annoyed the shit out of him, but there was nothing he could do, except pick up the debris in Steve’s wake. His pockets were always full of Steve debris.

Just like his memories were always full of Steve.

Just like … no. He wasn’t going _there_. 

Steve still launched himself around the room, like the ball in the pinball machine, slingshotting from bed to dresser to night table to door and back again. Seriously, it would be comical if it weren’t for the twisted look of anguish on his face.

Had James put that look there?

Pretty sure he had. Again, the asking to kill him thing. 

He wanted to go to Steve, sling his arm around his shoulders, and tell him it would be all right. That things would get better. But James had stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago, and knew that nothing got better. Not ever. You could only arrange for it not to get any worse.

Steve switched on his wireless – rather, his stereo system – and soft jazz filled the room. Smooth notes, subtle harmonies. Good music. Good music to hold someone tight and dance slow and easy to. Good music to f – no. _Not that_.

Steve had stopped his frantic pacing, and now stood at the foot of the bed, his fists clenching and loosening, as if he was trying to make a decision.

About a bullet, maybe?

But no. Steve had made it clear that he wouldn’t be taking James out, and it was obvious none of his friends would unless James did something so heinous they had no choice. But he had enough red in his ledger, he didn’t need to add any more. He wouldn’t endanger innocents in order to secure his final release.

Steve toed off his sneakers, stripped out of his sweats, and tore off his sweat socks. He stood there by his bed in just his boxers, and he was a sight. Steve’d never believe he was attractive before the serum, but James had always thought he was. But since the serum … well. The imagination was fucking _inspired_. And James had always had a good imagination.

And when Steve stretched out on the bed, legs apart, arms folded behind his head, and nothing but a thin layer of cotton outlining the impressive dimensions of his package … well, he’d have to forgive himself if his mind strayed _there_ , just for a moment. Or two.

Because the sick truth was that James had wanted to fuck Steve Rogers since they were kids, and when he’d shown up at his door in Italy, all he’d wanted to do was jam him up against the wall and drill his ass til he screamed, and fill his mouth with his cock until Steve’s face was covered in James’s cum, and then he wanted Steve to turn around and do all that and more right back to him.

It was sick. It was wrong. A sane man didn’t feel that way about his best friend of a lifetime. Clearly, he was broken beyond repair, and he needed to be put down like the twisted, damaged thing he was.

And then he heard Steve calling out his name softly, a breath. A moan? His attention became riveted to the thickening length in his boxers, and the hand shoved down the front, ghosting over that hidden treasure. From the way the fabric moved, Steve was fondling his balls, and James could picture him taking each one in his fingers, rolling it around, massaging it gently, and … yeah. He slid his flesh hand down under him and palmed his own cock, grown hard and aching just at the thought of Steve Rogers beating off in front of him.

If this was hell, did he really want heaven?

And what the fuck was he thinking, spying on Steve in the privacy of the guy’s bedroom, getting off while Steve got off?

And did Steve just call out his name _again_?

He watched, rapt, as Steve shoved his boxers down and off, arching off the bed. Shoulda thought of that first, boyo, James thought with a smirk. But there it was, the stuff of James’s dreams. Dusky rose, thick with arousal, still sheathed in its foreskin, his cock curved up from the coarse golden hair that trailed down his abs into his balls, softer, glittery gold hairs on his legs catching the light. Boy’s chest was the eighth wonder of the fucking world. But that cock …

Steve’s hands were clasped around it, one hand teasing the head, thumb running across the slit and fingers dancing along the tip as though playing an instrument. The other hand fisted the shaft, sliding the foreskin up and down roughly as Steve’s breathing hitched. Like the old days, when asthma robbed him of his breath. Watching Steve worship that dick with his oh-so-clever hands, James felt his own breath stutter, and had to concentrate so he wouldn’t make any sounds and give away his position. Give away the fact that he was a dirty voyeur, drooling over his best friend whacking off in his own goddamned bedroom.

Head thrown back against the pillow, brow furrowed in concentration, Steve kept up a brutal pace on his cock, pumping hard with one hand, squeezing and teasing with the other. His hips started to thrust upward, no discernible rhythm, but the sight was breathtaking to James. That beautiful head pushing up through Steve’s hand, glistening with the bead of pre-cum oozing out of the slit, balls bouncing as his hips jerked up and down. James found himself holding his breath. He’d just wait until Steve came, watch him paint himself with his cum, and then he’d leave. Leave and take care of his own not so little problem. 

Yeah, he was a worthless shit, broken beyond repair, and Steve was better off without him. But he wasn’t better off without Steve … not when he was laid out so beautiful like this, dick in his hands, skin so rosy from arousal, face gone with pleasure.

And suddenly, Steve stopped, clamping his fingers around the base of his dick, holding still. Delaying his orgasm, James realized, as Steve reached down to lazily stroke his thighs, his balls. He willed himself to relax, the furrow in his forehead smoothing out as he flicked his tongue over his lips, leaving a shimmering wet streak so pretty, it was all James could do not to break through the grate, leap on the bed, and crash his lips against Steve’s.

And then he heard it, clearly this time, no guesswork.

“Buck. God, Bucky,” Steve breathed, moaned, groaned – the sound went right to James’s cock, and he was worried now he was so hard it was getting painful. Like damaging painful. “Oh, baby … you know I want you, Bucky … I love you, Bucky …”

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. But hearing Steve say those words … James came hard, untouched, in his combat kit. He couldn’t remember an orgasm that intense as his senses whited out for a few seconds. He came back to himself to the sensation of warm jizz filling his pants, painting over his balls and dick and abdomen inside the heavy clothing. 

Steve’s hands stopped suddenly, just stopped, and James muzzily wondered if he’d made a sound, given away his position when the orgasm hit him. But Steve just breathed deeply and went back to fisting his dick rhythmically while his other hand squeezed and played with the head. He kept it up for several more minutes, and James felt his own cock twitching with interest. Truth was, since all the experimentation, once he was off all the drugs and shit they used to pump him up with, he had the refractory time of a teenager, probably better. He’d never tested how many times he could get it up – if Steve’s kept going much longer, he might just have the chance now.

Steve brought himself almost to the edge again, a touch further, and stopped again. This time, his hands ghosted up his stomach, along his sides, drifting across his chest and toyed with his own nipples. A delicious gasp slipped through his lips, followed by, “Just there. Just there, Buck. I love it when you touch me _there_ ,” in a breathy, needy voice.

As James pressed down against the heel of his own hand, chasing friction and pressure against his own erection, Steve went back to working over his dick, left hand pumping with audible fervor, the slick sound of flesh on flesh, right hand jackrabbitting over the head, hard and fast. James wasn’t going to last long this time either, the sight and sound of Steve’s pleasure was so … delicious. Steve kept going this time, breath whistling higher and higher until he dug in his heels and arched off the bed, screaming, “Bucky!” as he shot gouts of cum, arcing up over his torso, spattering against his face, his neck, his chest, pooling on his abs. A drop had fallen on his lips, and he flicked his tongue out to clean it off. Jesus, it was gorgeous, the way that Steve was so wrecked, practically sobbing with the force of his orgasm, hands still working his dick to milk the last of the jizz out of it. Shit, he _was_ sobbing, and he was sobbing, “Bucky,” like a chant, like a prayer, to himself.

James felt the tightening at the base of his spine, the fire through his balls, and the intense pleasure as his own dick saluted Steve’s accomplishment and shot his load. As he came down from the high, he catalogued what he’d learned on this mission.

Steve had a fucking stunning cock to go with the rest of him. 

Steve was vocal in bed. And it was hot as hell.

And if he could believe what Steve said while he was jerking off, Steve wanted _him_ in it.

That put a completely different complexion on … well, _everything_. As Steve retrieved his boxers and wiped away the cum slathered over his body, James wondered if perhaps his mission didn’t need adjusting after all.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was broken.

&&&


	2. I Like Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James learns more about the present day, and what he learns may help him in the future. And then there's Steve ... still able to surprise James. :)

Over the next two weeks, James observed. That’s what he was calling it, and he’d punch out anyone who called it different. Observing. It wasn’t as creepy as stalking. Or peeping. It was _observing_.

Steve had a routine. Up at 6, snack, run, usually with Wilson if he was in town, alone if he wasn’t. If the weather was crap, he’d run the spiral ramp wrapping around the atrium that spanned levels 3 through 8. After the run, shower and a breakfast big enough to feed their entire unit back in the War. Read, watch TV, fiddle restlessly for an hour. Give up and head to the gym. Argue with Romanoff. Woman kept trying to talk sense into Steve, and he had to hold back the urge to garrote her. The request was to kill him, not set him loose on the world, goddammit. Or stick him in custody of some faceless government group, probably no better than the last 70 years of captivity. 

Then Steve’d kill a few punching bags, work up a sweat, and when Romanoff tried to make her point again, he’d storm out of the gym and into the elevator.

James lost him during the elevator ride. Unless he actually rode the top of the car and managed to pry open the roof, there was no way for him to observe Steve in transit unless he hacked the AI. And he was pretty sure that Jarvis would take offense, and most nights – yeah, okay, all nights – he was James’s only friend. He couldn’t afford to piss off the AI. So he didn’t hack. 

The storming out of the gym always ended up with Steve back on his floor in the tower, restlessly, angrily pacing and worrying his nail and bouncing off the furniture. Some days he held out longer than others. Some days he gave in as soon as he got to his apartment.

He always succumbed.

First the clothes came off, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Sometimes buttons would fly, sometimes he take everything off carefully and fold it nicely so he could just slip back into his things and no one would be the wiser. Every so often, he’d remember to take off the boxers. Sometimes it was briefs, those cute little tight things, speedos or something. Once, he’d been commando all morning, and didn’t that just get James’s motor running? The idea of Steve, America’s Virgin Icon, running around the streets of Manhattan, pounding the bag in the gym, arguing with Romanoff for fuck’s sake, all with the family jewels free and easy as you please? 

That was a keeper for the long cold nights to come.

Sometimes, James felt Steve was aware of his surveillance, played to it. Played to him. Teased him. And if that wasn’t the stuff of fantasy, he didn’t know what was.

And then there were the toys. Jesus fuck, the toys. Not every day, but once in a while. Often enough that James held his breath waiting to see if Steve would break something out of one of the drawers in his bedside table, and didn’t start breathing again until Steve started touching himself, or he pulled something out. A suction thing that left Steve stuttering for a good half hour after he shot his load. A silicon dong he slid up his own ass after spending several minutes fingering himself. Fingering himself! A fucking vibrator he pushed in ever so slowly, gently, then switched on with a remote control.

James vowed to get one of those for himself. Steve’s orgasm was fucking nuclear.

Hell.

And damnation.

But those _beads_. Those fucking beads! Steve slipped one into his ass and then his ass just seemed to suck it in, bead by bead, until the whole thing disappeared. James had the overwhelming urge to follow them with his tongue, and it took every ounce of resolve for him not to break through the fucking wall and jump down onto Steve’s bed to do just that.

After two weeks of _observing_ , he finally felt the need to discuss it with his therapist. It was the first time he’d felt any need for human interaction – other than the pervasive desire to jump Steve’s bones – since he couldn’t remember. The Alps, maybe?

&&&

Doctor Caroline Taylor, his therapist, was used to 60 minutes of glowering silence, and so she’d gotten in the habit of doing research on her tablet, often bringing up things she found online that she thought might be pertinent to his interests.

Shots in the dark, mostly, but she got points for not just giving up and playing solitaire every time.

He kind of liked her.

Which was why he waited so long to say anything, but he couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer.

“I like men.”

Her fingers stilled over her tablet and she looked up cautiously. “Thank you for sharing that.”

“You’re my therapist, right? My doctor. I mean, you’re bound by some code of honor not to turn me in, right?”

“Yes, I’m bound by patient-doctor confidentiality. But there’s nothing to ‘turn you in’ for, Sergeant Barnes.”

“I like men. ‘S’illegal.”

Her brows furrowed as she puzzled his statement, then her face cleared and she smiled. “ _Was_ illegal. _Was_. Laws have changed in the past 70 years. Society has changed. It’s not only legal for you to like men, it’s legal in the state of New York for you marry a man.”

James felt his heart rate quickening. “Marry?” he whispered reverently. And didn’t that conjure a whole raft of possibilities. He cleared his throat and said in a normal tone of voice, “So I could walk up to a guy and plant one on him, and nothing would happen.”

“Well, that would depend on the man, and whether your advances were welcome. No different from approaching a woman, really. But legally, that’s not a crime, unless the recipient deems it assault. Then you could be looking at civil if not criminal charges.”

“Huh,” he replied, turning this startling and tantalizing information over in his head. “Marry. Wow. Future’s got somethin’ to say for itself after all.”

“So, she asked, setting her tablet down and looking at him coyly. “Is this interest, um, general in nature, or is there someone specifically you’re interested in?”

Panic fluttered through him then. It was one thing to admit his disease, his fracture. It was quite another to give voice to his greater sin. Despite the way he indulged it every goddamned day. “You don’t share what I say, right? With anyone?”

“There’s been nothing to share before today, James. But no, nothing you say here can be shared with anyone else. This is a safe zone, a protected zone.”

He swallowed. Saying something out loud, saying it to someone else, made it real. Once you said it out loud, you couldn’t take it back, not really. 

“You don’t have to answer, James,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

She was giving him an out. He decided he needed to own his perversion. “Nah. But what do you think? If you had _that_ to look at – would you settle for anything else?”

“Captain Rogers.”

“Since we were kids.”

“Oh. Does he know?”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t.”

She processed that in silence for a moment, then a small smile spread across her face. She reached out toward him, her small, flesh hand stretching toward his large, metal one. Their fingertips brushed ever so faintly; he could register the pressure, measure the body temperature, even count her heartbeats and register O2 levels through the contact. But he couldn’t actually _feel_ her. She looked up at him, eyes clear and full of encouragement. “It’s okay to want, James. Even if it’s not returned, it’s okay to want.”

“Even that?”

“Even that.”

“Huh.”

“Is this what’s been bothering you, James? Is this why you’ve been so silent, why you’ve been hiding all these weeks?”

“No. Mebbe. What if it is?”

“Well, it shows the value of communication, I suppose. If you’d brought this up earlier, I could have put your mind at ease sooner.”

“So, you think I’m gonna be all talky now, huh?”

“I think you’re going to do what you’re going to do, James. But maybe we can try to make sure that whatever you do is good for you. Makes you feel good about yourself.”

“Hah. Fat chance.”

“So, maybe that’s the place to start, then. You’re the only one who feels that way – that you can’t feel good about yourself. Why?”

&&&

So, gradually James fell into a new rhythm of actually speaking with his therapist, peppering her with questions, swiping her tablet from her during sessions so he could look up things for himself. Sometimes sitting there in absolute silence, staring at a point somewhere over her shoulder. Like old times, but those times were fewer and fewer, and so much further in between.

Finally, she asked if he’d like to have a tablet of his own, and he nodded, dumbfounded.

“You’re allowed to want, James. Remember? And you’re allowed to _have_. So long as you don’t take, you’re allowed to have. I’ll speak with Mr. Stark, see if he can set you up with a StarkPad.”

“Okay,” he answered, feeling small and humbled.

&&&

His routine continued as before, ranging around the tower’s infrastructure, acutely aware of where Steve was at any time. Slipping into his apartment when he was out for his run to eat the breakfast Steve had made for him the night before, which usually meant using the microwave or the toaster oven. He was always careful to be out of the apartment by the time Steve returned for his own breakfast, the only evidence he’d been there the clean dishes drying in the rack on the drain board.

He would hover in the vents outside the gym, listening to that day’s exchange with Romanoff. Sometimes she’d enlist the aid of Barton, or Banner, and once, even Stark Junior. But they were never very convincing, like they didn’t really agree with her but were too afraid of her to say so, and Steve’s frustration levels just kept ratcheting up, resulting in the rising body count of punching bags that was beginning to look seriously epic in scope.

And every day he’d follow Steve back to his apartment, to his bedroom, for his post-gym fap, watching avidly as Steve pleasured himself one way or another. He started trying to time his own orgasm to match Steve’s, to ensure he didn’t give himself away by making noises that would make Steve suspicious. 

Then, when Steve was cleaning up, he’d slip away in the vents to take care of his own clean-up. He spent a lot of time doing laundry these days, lounging around in sweats and t-shirt – his sleeping clothes – while his tac uniform went through another spin cycle. He was going to have to seriously reconsider his wardrobe, maybe add a few additional pieces to it so he wouldn’t have to do laundry all the time. After all, between the post-gym jerk-off, and the pre-bedtime wank, he had to change his shorts at least twice a day. Only thing missing was the morning wood, but there was no vent in the bathroom where Steve no doubt dealt with his early riser. So he was on his own for that, and he kinda felt like saving it to share with Steve after the gym.

In the evening, James would slip back to his position in the vent, to listen to music or a television show that Steve had on, ending the evening with that end-of-day beat-off, and then he’d doze for a while, pretending that he and Steve were actually sleeping together, like roommates, like lovers, only without the whole, you know, talking to each other, or actually seeing each other. When he knew that Steve was soundly asleep, he’d make his way out of the vents and slip into the apartment to eat the dinner Steve had made for him, collect the clothes he’d set aside for him, and breathe the same air as Steve for a few minutes before disappearing again. 

On nights when he was feeling especially brave, he’d slip quietly to the door to Steve’s room, always left open since there was no one else in the apartment. He’d stand there, watching Steve sleep, sometimes as much as an hour or two. Just watch him sleep. Watch him breathe, the steady, unhurried rise and fall of his chest, the soft snore, the occasional whistle when his mouth would fall open. No crackling, no wheezing, just strong and regular. It made his chest hurt to watch, to listen, to smell Steve in his natural environment. He could almost taste, his emotions were so powerful in those moments. In the faintest of whispers, he’d say, “Love you, punk.” Because, apparently, he could now. And he always had.

Yeah, the future really _did_ have somethin’ going for it, after all.

It was almost normal in a way, this routine they’d fallen into. Well, James had. Steve didn’t even know James was there.

His therapist had given him permission to want, and his surveillance gave him the illusion that he and Steve were together, pleasuring themselves in synch each day and each night.

It wasn’t illegal. It wasn’t. It was _okay_. Well, it would be if Steve for sure knew about it.

Maybe what was left of Bucky Barnes wasn’t so broken after all.

Maybe.

He’d worked out a lot of his anger and frustration, sense of betrayal and abuse over the months of bringing Hydra to the precipice. Laying waste to your enemy can have a therapeutic effect, after all. Watching the life drain out of the eyes of your abusers … well, that was just fucking cause for celebration.

He recognized that a lot of really crappy shit was done to him, and he knew it would take a long time for certain things – like barber chairs, the smell of ozone, mouth guards, and surgical saws – to not freak him out. He wasn’t keen on trains, didn’t much like heights, and wasn’t crazy about snow. Dr. Taylor was patient about that, made recommendations for support groups for survivors of abuse, techniques he could use to calm himself, make himself feel safe.

And the deeds done with his own hands? Even if he hadn’t been in the pilot’s seat, they were still his hands. He had a harder time relinquishing responsibility for that. And his therapist couldn’t recommend any support groups for ex-assassins who’d been repeatedly brainwashed. Except for some of the people already in the tower.

As she’d handed him his brand spanking new StarkPad – tricked out by Stark Junior in black and silver with one white star on the skin – she’d asked him if he’d like her to approach some of the others, feel them out.

“For what?”

“To talk. This is a unique collection of individuals, James. You fit in better here than you imagine.”

“You givin’ up secrets, Doc?”

“Only referencing what’s already on the internet. I don’t need to get any more personal than that. Think about it.”

“Yeah, sure. We done?”

“If you want. And don’t forget about what we discussed. Think about talking to Captain Rogers. Nothing major, just say hello. Let him know you’re doing okay. Ask how he is.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask, James.”

&&&

The StarkPad proved to be a useful companion in the empty hours of the night inside the tower’s circulatory system. He confirmed Dr. Taylor’s story, learned lots of new words (sex vocabulary had gotten both varied and fucking confusing in the past 70 years!), looked at ideas he’d never considered, and discovered the wonders of internet porn thanks to pre-loaded apps courtesy of Stark Junior. Which led to even more _ideas_. 

There were even regular movie and television show sites, and he even found what was known as “old-time radio” sites – sites that ran radio serials like he remembered from childhood. He couldn’t remember the details of the old shows, just the excitement he’d feel as he and Steve would crowd around the wireless to hear the latest adventures of their favorite heroes. Those were good memories, fuzzy memories, but good.

He explored shopping sites, and plugged in the names of what he thought Steve had in his toy drawer, and discovered things he’d never imagined. But once he’d read about them, he couldn’t think about anything else. He found he had an Amazon account, and he sort of remembered someone telling him he had money, back Army pay. Like, a _lot_ of money. So he ordered … stuff.

Maybe it wasn’t human interaction the way Dr. Taylor wanted. But he was actually going to have to go pick up his … stuff … when it arrived. And that was likely to lead to some form of interaction. Probably with a human. So, yay, a win for Dr. Taylor. Yay, a new toy for James. So, yeah, a win-win if you looked at it that way.

James chose to look at it that way.

And the next time his arm needed calibration, and he haunted Stark Junior’s lab until he showed up, he had his StarkPad with him, and Stark Junior asked him how he liked it. He used his words and thanked Stark Junior for the tablet, and didn’t growl too much when he took it and flipped through James’s browser history with a knowing smirk.

“I can recommend some other resources. I think you’ll like them a whole lot better than what you’ve seen so far,” he told James as he handed the tablet back. James nodded silently.

Stark Junior went back to work, opened up the maintenance port of the arm, and whistled softly to himself as he checked the arm over. But James was sure he heard him mutter at least once, “Who’da thunk it?” before picking up his tune again.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! More to come, and I hope to finish the story this weekend. Hit me up with comments!


	3. I Like to Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky exists a little more outside the walls, and admits to his therapist a little of what he does each day with Steve. Steve wonders if he'll ever see Bucky eye-to-eye again.

James had to come out of the walls and go to the mailroom to pick up his packages when they were delivered. He was careful about his appearance that day, trying to downplay the monster in him so he wouldn’t scare anyone. At least until he got his … stuff. But when he arrived at the mailroom, he was told by the clerk there that Mr. Stark had retrieved his parcel, and he could pick it up on the penthouse level from Mr. Stark directly.

Well, fuck.

James debated travelling to the penthouse level by air duct as he usually would, and decided he’d suck it up and take the public elevator, just like he’d done coming down. He’d have something to brag about to Dr. Taylor at his next session later that day.

Not surprisingly, the elevator music was Led Zeppelin – not strings and pianos, but the real thing, and James found himself singing along to _Stairway to Heaven_ as the elevator car shuddered to a sudden stop.

Crap. It was Steve’s floor.

He wasn’t ready. No matter what Dr. Taylor said, he wasn’t ready to face Steve directly yet.

“Jarvis, please override the elevator call and keep going.”

“But Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers is waiting –“

“I know, Jarvis, I know. I’m begging you, please.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis replied as the car smoothly began moving again, the door mercifully remained sealed shut. “I detect that your heart rate is becoming dangerously high, and your blood oxygen is lowering. Please attempt to get your breathing under control so that you do not hyperventilate, sir.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jarvis. You’re a pal, you know that? Wish I could take you out for a night on the town sometime to thank you for everything you do for me.”

“It is my purpose to be of assistance. However, I would quite like that, Sergeant Barnes. Sir is working on an ambulatory remote cognitive node for me – when that is complete and has passed trials, I would certainly like to take you up on your kind offer.”

“Come again?”

“Mr. Stark is building me a body so I can leave the tower.”

James whistled. “Nice. I’ll look forward to that, Jarvis.”

“As will I, sir. We are coming up on the penthouse level, Sergeant. Will you be all right?”

“Scanning me, Jarvis?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Gotta man up, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“Well, I’m following therapist’s orders, so it’s a good thing.” James took a deep, steadying breath, another, and then another. Finally, before he became lightheaded, he stopped with the breathing thing and nodded once. “Okay.”

Jarvis triggered the door mechanism, allowing it to open smoothly so James could exit on to the penthouse floor.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Stark Junior standing there, holding his package, with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

“Really, Tin Man? Y’gotta order toys? If you’d just settle into one of the suites, you’d find the bedside tables are _fully_ stocked.” He lobbed the box in James’s direction, and turned, apparently already forgetting him. James caught the box neatly, and trotted behind Stark Junior, his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean, fully stocked?”

Stark Junior stopped and whirled around to face him. “So seriously, you really can speak? And you can come out before dark. Well. Wonders and all that. Toys. Part of the service, hospitality, all that sort of thing. Every guest room is equipped with lube, condoms, massage oils, sex toys for both primary genders and all possibilities in between. Vibrators, dildos, beads, butt plugs, you name it, we’ve probably stocked it. Well, my idea, Pepper thinks it’s vulgar, but hey. It’s high quality stuff, none of this plasticizer shit. Seriously, dude, you’re wiggin’ people out with your Phantom of the Tower schtick. Don’t you like sleeping in a bed?”

James considered this question for a moment before replying. Another thing that Dr. Taylor was working with him on, considered responses, and not punching people because they asked him a question.

“I don’t really remember. I slept on the floor when I went after Hydra, then in Italy. Before that … cryo.”

Stark Junior seemed genuinely surprised at his candor. Huh. There might be something to this honesty shit after all. He seemed subdued when he answered, “I didn’t realize that. Sorry, I never thought it through. Well, we could have mat brought in, you can make up a nest on the floor if you prefer. Talk to J – he’ll set you up with your own apartment. You can move in anytime. Let him know if you need anything, and it’s done.”

“What if … what if I like living in the ducts?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Stark Junior looked at him for another long moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, well, whatever. J will still assign you an apartment – you can use it or not. Staff’ll keep the kitchen stocked – just fill out the request form for any special needs. You can wander the building to your heart’s content, on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“No more scaring the maintenance staff. We’ve had six different people quit over the past two months thanks to you. Pepper’s not happy.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. They kept moving my stuff.”

“They were cleaning.”

“They shouldn’t move my stuff. It’s not safe.”

“Not safe. Are you telling me you brought weapons into my tower?”

“I’m telling you I _made_ weapons in your tower.”

“Huh. Good man. Fellow after my own heart. Just, keep the mayhem to a minimum. Seriously, good help is a pain in the ass to find. And hey, you ever get your head screwed on straight, maybe you could come see me about a job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can always use someone who can improvise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Can I go now? I’m tired.”

“Well, he knows how to use his words. Yeah, sure. Just see me before you order anything else – probably have it somewhere around here, and better quality than you can get off frickin’ Amazon.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“Okay, I don’t really care,” Stark Junior said with a faint grin, but he still stood there watching while James tucked his package under his arm and exited through the stairway. He heard the elevator coming, and he knew that Steve would be entering the floor momentarily. The door snicked shut behind James just as he heard Steve’s voice greeting Stark Junior. “Did you see Bucky?”

&&&

“Sex toys.”

“Yep.”

“Bucky ordered sex toys.”

“Already said yes, Cap.”

“How do you know?”

“Recognized the manufacturer’s name on the box. Well-known. Favorite of mine, actually.”

“You know all the sex toy manufacturers.”

“How else do you think your bedside table got stocked, hmmm?”

Steve blushed at the reminder of the toys in his bedside table. Toys he’d taken to using when he felt certain Bucky was in the vent, watching him. Listening to him. It excited him in ways he’d never have expected – he never thought of himself as an exhibitionist, but maybe he’d turned into one in his need to get Bucky back. Then again, it _was_ Bucky. The one person he’d always hoped would notice him. Maybe even when they were kids, Steve showed off a little more around Bucky, maybe he’d held his head a little higher, stuck out his chest a little more, smiled a little wider when Bucky was around. So Bucky would _see_ him. 

Because he’d always needed Bucky, just hadn’t know how to say it. 

So maybe he could be forgiven a little sass and a little show. He was, after all, an experienced showman. And damn, but the climaxes using the toys had been really, _really_ good. Good enough for an encore, certainly. He had to give props – silently, and never to his face – to Tony for excellent selections. He would die before he’d admit to Tony that he’d tried even one of the toys in the bedside table, let along four or five. Or that he had plans for the others once he figured out how to use them.

“Did he say anything?” Steve asked, diverting the conversation from his dildos and vibrators.

“Doesn’t sleep in a bed. Said he can’t remember the last time he slept in a bed. Slept on the floor. And before that was cryo.”

“We didn’t get much bed time in the Howling Commandos, either. Mostly bedrolls on lumpy ground. Rarely got to see a cot, let alone a real bed. I guess that makes sense. I don’t always feel all that comfortable in bed, either. Too soft.”

“Huh. I felt that way for a while after Afghanistan, but I eventually got over it. Especially when I started sharing a bed on a regular basis.”

“Too much information, Tony.”

“I’m just sayin’, sometimes you need a motivation to make a transition. I couldn’t expect Pepper to sleep on the floor. So I learned to sleep in a bed again. For her.”

Steve chewed at his thumbnail thoughtfully. It was actually quite sweet and chivalrous of Tony – and when it came to Pepper, he could be unexpected in so many ways. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Seriously? I need to call out the national press association. Pepper! We need a press conference!”

“What the hell, Stark?”

“You never agree with me, Cap. It worries me when you do. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just worried. Maybe a little hurt. He talks to you. I haven’t heard a word from him since he came to the tower.”

“Tough break, I know. You got your best bud back, but not really. I gotta tell ya, he looked better than I’ve seen him in the past. I think the therapist is helping him, at least.”

“Well, that’s something, huh? Maybe he’ll send me a postcard some day.”

Tony was silent for a long moment, just watching Steve in that odd, quiet, considering way of his, and then he gently laid his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Hang in there, big guy. Ain’t over yet.”

Steve snorted softly, smiling bitterly in response. “Hope you’re right, Tony.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be? When am I ever wrong, Rogers?”

“You really want an answer to that, Stark?”

&&&

James followed Jarvis’s directions to the suite assigned to him, and walked up to the biometric lock and allowed the system to scan his retina. The door softly disengaged and swung inward slightly. He stepped through into a space a mirror image to Steve’s apartment, with even less personality than Steve’s tribute to the wonders of beige and plaids. 

Yeah, okay. This would do as a base of operations. He could maintain a larger cache of clothes here, wouldn’t have to launder shorts as often, and he could keep supplies here. He could improvise some more weapons, and keep them here, not in his stuff the cleaners kept moving. He didn’t actually have to sleep here, but he could utilize the space and the secure door.

“Jarvis, who else has access to this suite?”

“Sir and Ms. Potts have full overrides, as do I. Anyone else would need your permission to enter, sir.”

“Okay. I don’t grant permission to anyone else for the foreseeable future, Jarvis. That includes the cleaning staff.”

“Understood, sir.”

So. Empty apartment. Package. And stocked bedside table?

James needed a shower. And then he needed to _play_. 

&&&

When James arrived for his appointment with Dr. Taylor later that afternoon, he’d missed his chance to watch Steve masturbate after the gym, but he’d had quite a lot of fun on his own in the shower and on the floor in the bed nest he’d made in the suite Jarvis had given him. As he slid into his seat across from her, he adjusted himself, noting that his dick still tingled pleasurably after using that suction thing. No wonder Steve had been gone for so long with it. Definitely a keeper.

“Well, you seem in a good mood today, James,” she greeted with a smile.

“Yeah. I just, um, you know …” he trailed off, not really sure how to describe why he was in a better mood. To a woman. With whom he didn’t have a sexual relationship. James fidgeted, feeling awkward. He didn’t like the sensation.

“No-o,” she prompted. “Why don’t you explain to me?”

“I, uh,” he frowned, then lifted his hand, fingers curled toward the palm, and moved the hand up and down, like he was pumping his cock.

Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Oh. Oh, well, that’s good. It’s important to allow yourself pleasure, James. I’m actually quite encouraged that you feel able to give yourself pleasure, allow yourself pleasure. It’s an important part of loving yourself. Is this the first time you’ve done that since coming to the tower?”

“Hell, no,” he blurted with a snort.

“Oh. Okay,” she drawled. “It’s a regular occurrence?”

“Like clockwork. Er, that is … Well, I follow a pattern, I mean – uh.”

“Slow down, tell me in your own words,” she encouraged him.

“I, uh … I like to watch,” he said all in a rush.

“Watch? You mean porn?”

“Porn’s okay. Some of it’s more than okay. Stark Junior sent me some links that are really, _really_ good,” he added enthusiastically. 

“But you mean something else by ‘watching’?” she prompted.

“I call it ‘observing’ – like surveillance. It’s familiar, surveillance. Observing. Not stalking.”

Her eyes widened just a fraction more. “Who are you watching, James? You’re not on a mission right now – you haven’t been released to fieldwork of any kind. You haven’t been assigned any surveillance.”

“My own mission. I need … I need to have a mission. Need the structure.” She nodded with a slight smile, and he took the encouragement as approval. “So I observe Steve.”

“I see. Is Captain Rogers aware of this observation?”

“Hell, no. I’m better than that. He has no idea.”

“And you observe him doing what?”

“Well, you know,” he did the hand gesture again. Her eyebrows shot up.

“You observe Captain Rogers in a private moment, one that he hasn’t chosen to share with you.”

“Well, when you put it like that – but it’s not –“

“How would you like to put it, then, James?”

“I like… no, I _need_ … to be near him. Not face to face, I don’t deserve that. But near him. If he knew I was there, he’d insist on talking, on looking at me. I don’t need that, I don’t want that. I don’t deserve it. I just need to be near. First time was an accident, I was there and he started, and I stayed, and then I … it made me feel closer to him. It made me feel good.”

She settled back in her seat, toying with a pen, trying to school her face to be neutral, but emotions flickered through. Confusion. Concern. Curiosity. Finally, she cleared her throat and leaned forward again.

“Okay, there’s a lot there to work with. We’ll deal with the deserving later – I think that warrants its own discussion. But first of all, I’m really proud of you for identifying things that make you feel good. It’s one of the things we’re working on, so it’s a good step. And I’m also pleased that you’re owning your emotions. That you can identify what you’re feeling and why. These are very positive steps, James.”

He relaxed fractionally, surprised at how much her approval meant to him. A small smile started to form on his lips until he realized she hadn’t applauded him for observing Steve jerk off. There was a but waiting to get out there.

“We really need to talk about boundaries,” she said, spearing him with a warm and gentle look.

Yep, there it was. The but.

“Boundaries. I’m not hurting anyone –“

“You’re invading Captain Rogers’s privacy, James. How do you know that what he does in private is meant to be shared with you?”

Unbidden, the thought came to him that when they were young, there was no such thing as privacy sharing a bedroom in a tiny apartment where neither could sniffle without the other one rubbing his nose. And he’d heard – not seen, but heard – Steve jerk-off lots of times, just as Steve had heard him. In fact, where the moonlight and the streetlights sometimes hit his bed over by the windows, Steve may well have seen him at it, too. Was that an invasion of privacy, or simply an accident of proximity? Yeah, probably an accident, although now he thought about it, he remembered putting some calculated effort into the moans, doing a little show, just for Steve. 

Oh.

Yeah.

So this feeling toward Steve, this desire – it wasn’t _new_.

She was still talking, he realized.

“Are you with me, James? You kind of zoned out for a moment –“

“Memory. I had a memory come back. Of us as kids. Jerkin’ off in the same room. We did it all the time.”

“Oh. So perhaps it didn’t occur to you that Captain Rogers might not want –“

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s just natural, right? Somethin’ we always did. Didn’t think.” He was careful to avoid promising he wouldn’t do it again, because he had every intention of crawling into that vent again tonight to join Steve for his bedtime beat-off, and he wouldn’t miss tomorrow’s post-gym jerk session, either. These were _his_ , his precious moments. It was okay for him to want. It was okay for him to have. He liked to watch. And damn if he was going to let someone stand in the way of that. At least until Steve got wise and punched out his lights, or told him to fuck off.

He didn’t pay much attention to what she said after that. He nodded politely when it seemed like it was the right thing to do, and made assenting noises without actually saying yes – or no – to anything. He thought he mentioned something about going to the mailroom and having a conversation with Stark Junior, and he thought she’d smiled at him. But all his attention was on what Steve might do tonight, in the dark, in his bed. And how it would make James feel.

&&&

He was already settled into the duct, half-dozing, when Steve came in and started changing for bed. James had changed as well, trading in the heavy, constricting tac suit for stretchy sweat pants, loose boxers, and a t-shirt. He had one of those fuzzy blankets draped over him, the ones that weighed nothing but could become so toasty warm in no time at all. He liked those blankets – they were functional and tactically sound – lightweight, compressible, and useful. He also had a fistful of tissues. He was ready.

So when Steve lay down on the bed and started to lazily stroke his dick through his shorts, James took advantage of the looser clothing and just slid the sweats and boxers down, exposing his dick so he could match Steve stroke for stroke. He shifted slightly so he could get at his balls more easily, and then just settled in to silently observe – he was _observing_ , not peeping. He was sharing, not taking. This was like being kids again, not invading Steve’s privacy. Okay, that last one? He was holding on to it as long as he could, but even he had to admit it was shaky. But for now, it would do.

And for now, this would do, too. The sight of Steve Rogers, looked so fucked out and debauched after a round of masturbation was a enough to make James come right into the tissue he’d arranged under his cock.

And as he dozed again, listening to the steady rhythm of Steve’s breathing like it was the heavenly chorus, he realized that this would be good enough. This would do.

If this was all he could have, he’d take it. He was allowed to want. He was allowed to have. He’d allow himself have _this_.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support in kudos and comments! I appreciate everyone who's said they'd like to see more than one chapter of this story. Bucky has informed me that he expects there to be 8 chapters. And he's given me the titles of all of them, too. Stages of recovery of a broken ex-assassin who's learning to want, and have, and be again.


	4. I Like Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes on a mission with SHIELD to recover Asgardian tech, leaving Bucky behind in the tower. Tony agrees to play babysitter if needed. James, left to his own devices, moves into Steve's apartment so he can surround himself with Steve's scent, and be comforted by that in Steve's absence. And to pass the time, James watches movies. Those kinds of movies. Until he picks the wrong one, and Tony finds himself in an unexpected situation.

“Seriously, Coulson, I can’t.”

“Captain, I understand the delicate nature of Sergeant Barnes’s recovery. But I also understand that you have virtually no contact with him on a daily basis,” Phil Coulson countered reasonably across the phone line.

Steve clenched his fist in frustration, while trying to keep his expression bland, and the hand holding the phone loose. He’d hate to crush another phone. Of course, no one knew about Bucky’s … “visitations.” No one knew how much they meant to Steve … or how much he suspected they meant to Bucky. They weren’t contact, per se, but they were the closest thing he’d been able to get with Bucky, and those moments were important to him. Precious, even. A weird form of intimacy.

“No, but I do provide meals and clothing for him, on a schedule. Schedules are important to his recovery.” Even to himself, he sounded petulant, waspish.

“Someone else can play wife, Cap.” Ouch, that fell a little too close to home. “You’re the only one who can be you. We need _you_ on this one, Steve,” Coulson added, dropping the honorific, and Steve knew that cost Phil. He loved the illusion of Captain America, but he trusted Steve.

Steve sighed heavily, glancing around the lounge area of the tower penthouse suite. Pepper had set up a brunch buffet as a team-building exercise, and the team was chowing down. Barton and Romanoff were making sandwiches – Clint’s was already six inches high, and he was still piling stuff on, much to Nat’s barely contained amusement. Pepper was standing with Bruce, a can of soda in her hand and a straw in her mouth, as Bruce sliced thick pieces of some artisan bread and laid them on a plate for her. Thor was off-world again, addressing some Asgardian seasonal celebration, or he’d have been the person Phil would have called in. Then there was Tony. He was happily playing Father, carving a ham with a laser scalpel.

Bucky talked to Tony. Bucky trusted him to calibrate the mechanical arm. That was important. That was huge, really. And Tony could be surprisingly sensitive about Bucky. Had been very supportive, both to Steve and to Bucky. Tony had an innate understanding of Bucky that was frankly shocking, knowing that the Winter Soldier had been responsible for the death of Tony’s parents. But Tony had studied the records, knew more about what was done to Bucky than anyone who hadn’t been part of that horrific “project.” So he was always gentle, always understanding. In moments like that, Steve felt an enormous sense of pride in the man Howard Stark’s son had become.

If he could trust anyone to look after Bucky, it was Tony. He’d have to trust Tony.

“Okay. 24 hours.”

“Sorry, with the distances involved, we’re looking at more like 48 or even 72. But we’ll try to shave off as much time as possible, Steve. Get you home as quickly as we can. We’ll aim as much as possible for 24, but I can’t make any promises.”

“No detours, no hidden agendas,” Steve pressed. Coulson agreed readily enough, which told him that maybe Coulson really was on the up and up with this one. “Okay, send the details to my StarkPad, and I’ll get ready. How soon can you be here to pick me up?”

“We can be wheels’ up in 20,” Coulson replied immediately.

“You’re en route,” Steve commented flatly.

“Been in a holding pattern over Manhattan for the past 10 minutes, yes.”

“You knew how I’d answer. Or you thought you did.”

“Piece of Asgardian tech falling into Hydra’s hands? Cap, it’s a no-brainer. I know you don’t want that happening any more than I do. I can always rely on you to do the right thing. See you in 20.”

Steve thumbed off his phone and swallowed. The right thing. Not always. And not always the smart thing. But damn if he wasn’t learning to do the selfish thing.

So, mission, duration undetermined. He had no idea where Bucky was, and no time to find him. No time to warn him he’d be gone, and that fragile routine they’d developed between them would be shattered over the next day or more. If he had time, he should talk to Bucky’s therapist, but there wasn’t time. Instead, he strode over and asked Tony to step aside so he could brief him.

&&&

James found the maintenance of a base of operations to be more stressful that he’d expected. He had more things, and more comforts, but he had to remember more details, think more things through, and generally, be conscious of more than he had when it was just him, a change of clothes, and a bedroll.

There was also the inconvenience of sleeping. As he settled into the comfort of a routine, felt secure in his surroundings (Jarvis always had his back), and actually relaxed a bit with a more palatable sleeping surface, he simply slept better, longer. His lack of situational awareness during actual sleep meant that conditions could change, and he would be unaware. He did not like this, although the fact was he was more alert and his entire system regenerated faster and more completely when he was fully rested. Even then, the problem was, if he fell off his routine, the entire day continued out-of-whack, out of control.

Like now.

He’d slept through Steve’s morning run, but he’d arrived on time to eat the breakfast that Steve set aside for him. But when he settled into the ducts near the gym, he’d realized the gym itself was empty. No Natasha haranguing Steve about letting James go, no Steve beating the crap out of the punching bags. No punching bags died for their country today.

James had hurried back to Steve’s apartment then and found it empty. Not just empty, but abandoned. James had paused then and asked Jarvis where Steve was, only to learn he was no longer in the tower. James had slid out of the duct system and let himself back into Steve’s apartment then, and found the hastily scrawled note on the kitchen table.

“Called away on mission with SHIELD. Be gone a couple of days maybe. Tony can help you out while I’m gone.”

And at the bottom of the note, Steve had added, “I miss you. Steve.”

“Miss you, too, punk,” James whispered softly, touching the signature with his fingertip. He felt suddenly very, very tired, lost, and aching. He stumbled into Steve’s bedroom, still smelling of Steve and more faintly, last night’s solitary sex. The bedclothes were still pulled back, the sheets showing the depression where Steve’s body had lain. The pillow glistened with strands of golden hair glinting in the light. The trashcan next to the bed was filled with balled up tissues, containing Steve’s jizz when he’d wiped himself after coming. James stood there and breathed deep, trying to pull the scent right into his core, wrap himself in it. He stopped short of rummaging through the trash. Just. 

It had been a quick departure then. No time for niceties, for neatening the place up. 

Gratefully, he slid into Steve’s bed and hugged the pillow to his face, soaking up the essence of Steve left behind. Within minutes, he was fast asleep again, wrapped in Steve’s scent.

&&&

“J, status of Barnes?”

“Resting comfortably in Captain Rogers’s bed, sir.”

Tony snorted. “Those two have _so_ much to talk about when Rogers gets back,” he muttered to himself with a grin, and went back to work on his latest tweak to the arc technology.

&&&

The first day that Steve was away on his mission was relatively quiet but disorienting. James slept most of the afternoon, and woke up shocked to find the day had slipped by him entirely while he’d slept soundly in Steve’s bed. It wasn’t as soft as the bed in James’s apartment, but it didn’t matter, because he liked the floor just fine. He figured it wasn’t the bed anyway, so much as Steve’s presence. His scent had sunk into the pillows, the sheets, the comforter. It was everywhere, and James could barely control the urge to roll around in it, cover himself in it, and wind himself into a cocoon for the duration.

James couldn’t get much information out of Jarvis about the mission, simply because Steve hadn’t confided in the AI. James asked if Jarvis could get a message to Steve if needed, but Jarvis demurred. 

“Sergeant Barnes, I apologize, but it appears that Captain Rogers is currently incommunicado. I can perhaps leave a message with Director Coulson if you would like to dictate it, sir.”

Yeah, there was no way that James was leaving a message with Coulson like he was some kind of message service. For one thing, he had no guarantee the message would ever get to Steve – he didn’t entirely trust Coulson or any of his SHIELD buddies. And second, he didn’t have anything to say, he just wanted to know if a message could get through. Needed to know that if he really wanted to, he could contact Steve.

_Needed Steve._

Wasn’t that a kick in the head? The air felt thinner with Steve out of the tower, out of reach. The floor didn’t feel so stable, either. And James didn’t feel so terrific, now he thought about it.

He just needed to concentrate. Do his exercises. Focus on his breathing. Take his mind off Steve’s absence.

Resolutely, James settled into Steve’s couch, and turned on the television. TV might be crap most of the time, but it could pass the time and it could grab his attention. Especially if he put on a certain kind of entertainment that left him grabbing something else. Repeatedly, and with purpose.

&&&

Steve should have known. Should have felt it in his gut, or in the prickling at the back of his neck, or the electric itch twitching through his fingers. 

Should have known the mission would turn to shit and he’d be facing delays to getting home, getting home to Bucky.

Coulson’s intel had been solid on the face of it, culled from painstaking surveillance of the contact, and lengthy conversations over Skype with experts to confirm the provenance of the Asgardian tech. Expert. Singular. Apparently he had some tame Asgardian who chose to live on Earth, away from the magic and the glory of Thor’s homeworld. And the guy was a certified expert in Asgardian artifacts and technology.

So the artifact was apparently real. It was in the possession of the contact. He wasn’t willing to discuss turning it over to SHIELD with anyone but Captain America. All those things were true.

The one thing that no one had adequately verified was the guy’s Hydra affiliations.

He was in deep. Probably higher echelon. And Hydra was still looking for a way to replicate Steve’s version of the super soldier serum. Especially since they’d lost the Winter Soldier. They’d never been able to successfully replicate Bucky’s version of the serum anyway – Bruce hypothesized that it needed the Tesseract to activate it, and thankfully that was stored safely back on Asgard.

So of course the fucking meet was a trap. They planned to keep the Asgardian tech, _and_ acquire Captain America. And SHIELD resources were stretched so thin, Coulson’s team was pinned behind the lines in a firefight with Hydra support personnel, and it wasn’t going well at all.

At least May was still in control of the Bus, so there was a chance. A slim one, but still a chance. And instead of a simple retrieval, now Steve had his own escape, collection of the artifact, and rescue of Coulson’s team on the agenda. Shoulda just stayed in bed. It was certainly more fun than this shitstorm.

As Steve tilted his head and looked askance at his captor, he let an evil grin slide across his face. He’d missed out on his daily quality “me time” and he was feeling grumpy. He really could use an asshole to take it out on, and this guy had just volunteered, by virtue of putting Steve in restraints. Not even good ones. And he’d been working out lately. So. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.

&&&

James made it through the first two days of Steve’s absence okay. Not great, but okay. He ate the food that Steve had left for him in the fridge, and made meals for himself when he was hungry. Yeah, despite Steve’s assumptions to the contrary, James knew his way around a kitchen, and could fend for himself if need be. He didn’t volunteer that little fact because he liked having Steve make his meals. Liked having a reason to come into Steve’s apartment, liked knowing he was welcome, even if he never took the step to actually see Steve, talk to him. Be with him, other than, well, _you know_. Hell, he hadn’t filled out a grocery request for his apartment yet because Steve kept making breakfast, lunch and dinner platters for him. And he kept letting himself into the apartment to eat them, always washing his plates and utensils, and leaving them to dry in the drain board. He was on permanent permission with Jarvis – he always had access to Steve’s apartment, 24/7.

The apartment was unusually empty without Steve, and the tower itself just seemed cavernous and dead without him. James had asked Jarvis for periodic updates, but there had been no news since Steve had left the tower, except for Jarvis confirming that Coulson’s plane, the Bus, had arrived in Turkey as planned.

So the minutes had stretched into hours, and hours bled into days. And James had occupied himself with a steady flow of porn on the big screen in Steve’s living room, some of it arousing, some of it stupid, some of it well acted, and some of it just plain laughable. Sometimes he fell asleep where he sat, and sometimes he’d crawl back into Steve’s bed to breathe him in and drowse to the scent of his shampoo, his soap, his skin, his musk. He could happily drown in Steve’s scent. And then the restlessness would kick in again, and he’d be up and moving again, always drawn back to the couch and the endless feast of watching other people have sex in a multitude of ways. Men and women, men and men, women and women, combinations, with toys and without – it was all very educational and all very exciting. Well, except for the stuff that was downright puzzling, but he’d use the internet to figure that out later. Maybe.

He’d managed to fill the wastebasket with tissues filled with cum, and had clocked over 20 ejaculations. Yeah, he was doing this for science, right? No one had ever counted how many times the Asset could get it up and shoot his load. He was pretty sure. There might have been some stupid shit asshole handler who played around with that, but James was pretty sure he’d pulled out the guy’s spine before he let him die in the ruins of the Hydra facility in Madrid. That was right before the crater opened up in the ground and swallowed the facility whole.

He’d had to resort to lube and skin cream to cool the chafing burn on his foreskin (spit only goes so far, as does cum itself), but that didn’t stop him from forging on. Steve’s living room probably stunk like a brothel, and he’d have to think about cleaning it up long before Steve returned from his mission. James put a request in to Jarvis to let him know as soon as the plane lifted off – with a transit across the globe, that should give James enough time to clean up, light a few candles, spray a little Febreze, and hopefully air the place out before Steve got home. And get out of sight, too.

He could go back to his own apartment and do the same thing, and not have to worry about it, but he didn’t want to stray far from where he could still smell Steve.

So he stayed, and he watched, and he jerked off, and he slept, and he ate, and he jerked off some more, and he just stayed.

And Jarvis reported no activity with the plane, and that started to concern James.

“Any idea who’s backing him up?” he asked Jarvis, probably not for the first time, but James couldn’t remember through the haze of endorphins his continual jacking off had flooded his brain with. If nothing else, the endorphins were keeping the panic at bay, making it possible for him to endure the enforced separation.

“Other than Director Coulson’s top team, no, sir. I am monitoring the primary frequency, but I haven’t picked up anything of note yet, Sergeant Barnes. I will keep you informed as soon as anything changes.”

“Okay, good. Thank you, Jarvis.”

“You are most welcome, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI replied. Was that a hit of pity in the AI’s tone? A hint of sympathy? Or was James’s brain becoming addled by all the orgasms? Whatever, it worked.

He scanned through the offerings and picked another movie, queueing it up to start playing, then took a bio break to take a leak and splash cold water on his face. As he considered his reflection in the mirror, he thought that maybe a full shower was in order soon. He was looking pretty wrecked, completely debauched, and more like some sticky-trenchcoated dirty old man you’d meet in one of those blue theatres than an ex-assassin with a jones for his best friend’s dick. He looked much worse, really, and there was no way he’d ever have a chance at that dick looking the way he did. He may have chosen to keep his distance, but there was always the possibility he’d want more, and he’d need to clean up his act. After this last movie, yeah.

&&&

“Sir, I believe that Sergeant Barnes is in need of assistance.”

“Hmm, what’s that, J?” Tony responded absently, attention riveted on the steady orbit of charged particles in his latest simulation.

“Sir, I believe that Sergeant Barnes is having a panic attack. It has been going on for seven point two minutes, and shows no sign of abating. Sergeant Barnes’s heart rate is becoming dangerously high, and I detect several contusions and lacerations.”

Tony’s head snapped up at that, face suddenly very aware, acutely aware, and wary. “Mark 57,” he ordered, snapping his fingers and dropping his tools to hold up his arms, wrists flexed.

“A suit, sir?”

“Barnes’s arm, J.”

“Of course, sir. Shall I alert the others?”

“Yeah. Banner, Barton, Romanoff. Is Wilson in the tower?”

“He’s due in from DC in about twenty minutes, sir.”

“Send him to … where is Barnes, anyway?” Tony asked as the Mark 57 gently molded itself to his body, each red and gold component locking together to form a sinuous but rock-steady armored shell around his all-too-human and crushable body.

“Captain Rogers’s apartment, sir. He has been there since shortly after Captain Rogers departed the tower with Director Coulson’s team.”

“Yeah, of course he is. Damn those two teenagers – we really gotta stage an intervention and get them together. Just not today. All right, have everyone meet me outside Steve’s digs.”

&&&

The team stood outside Steve’s apartment between the elevator and the door to Steve’s living room, and they could hear the screams like dying animals and the crash and boom of violence within.

“You sure about this, Tony?” Bruce asked nervously, tongue flicking out to lick across his lips.

Natasha looked over at Bruce and laid a steadying hand on his arm. “Should you be here, Bruce? We’re fine, we don’t need you –“

“If he’s reverted to programming, you may need the Other Guy to help contain him,” Bruce replied earnestly.

“Tony, I think I should come in with you,” Pepper was insisting, the glow of Extremis-enhanced emotion flickering in her eyes.

“If I need you, I’ll let you know. Let me try it on my own – Steve’ll never forgive us if we break his sexbot. I can be a little more finessed on my own.”

“Wait, did you just call Barnes Steve’s _sexbot_?” Natasha demanded, her hand shooting out to stay Tony’s Iron Man suit.

“That’s what you fix on?” Barton asked. “I’m taking position at the stairwell,” and he stepped back to cover the exit, bow at the ready, shaking his head in disgust.

“Steve and Barnes. Really,” Bruce said, bemused. “Huh.”

“It’s a vibe. They’ve got a vibe. I don’t think they’re doing anything yet. Not together, anyway. But the vibe is there. They are literally dying by pining. We’re staging an intervention when Cap gets back though. Can I go now?”

Natasha released him with a negligent wave, and Tony stepped forward to grasp the doorknob. Pepper and Bruce both braced for impact on either side of him, while Natasha fell back to the elevator and dropped into an attack stance.

Tony took a deep breath, expelled it quickly, and hit the control for the helmet; it slid shut, encasing him completely in the suit. He turned the knob, slipped into the room quickly, and shut it firmly behind him, resting against the door as he surveyed the damage.

The coffee table was a write-off, and the couch would need repair. Two of the lamps were shards, and the debris field spanned the couch to the wall where the television hung, and back toward the bedroom. The worst damage was to the projection television, the screen cracked and spider-webbed with fractures, even as the image continued to play, projected against the glass. Maybe not one of his better ideas for design enhancements, under the circumstances. 

It took only looking at what was playing to figure out what had triggered Barnes.

Somehow he’d managed to pick an S&M flick from the queue, and the action on-screen could not have brought back happy memories to a man brutalized and used like Barnes had been. Tony walked over and picked up the remote and switched the film off. Then he popped open the helmet and wrinkled his nose. “Shit, smells like a frat house in here!” He spied the overflowing trash basket and grimaced. “Looks like a frat house, too. Obviously introducing Barnes to porn wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve had,” he muttered to himself, as he stepped carefully through the debris field toward Steve’s bedroom. “He’ll forgive me,” he told himself as he pushed the door open.

The damage here wasn’t as extensive, but the bed had been completely stripped, and Barnes had wound himself up in the bedclothes, weeping and shivering into the cotton. 1,000 thread count Egyptian cotton, mind you. He was rocking back and forth, making those awful, broken noises, like animals dying, his eyes wild and focused somewhere beyond this room, or maybe so far inward he couldn’t get out of his head.

Tony stopped a foot or so away, and slowly folded himself into a crouch, extending one gauntleted hand out toward Barnes. As soon as he made contact, Barnes flinched violently. Tony reached out with both gauntleted hands and grabbed on, riding out Barnes’s shaking to pull him into a rough embrace. This would work better skin on skin, but Barnes had the capability to rip Tony into component parts with that arm, so it was an unacceptable risk. He really did need to accelerate work on the replacement arm, and make sure there was a failsafe in it so it could be disabled in case of something like a panic attack. In the meantime, he instructed Jarvis to increase the external temperature of the suit to mimic human skin.

Arms around Barnes’s shoulders, Tony maneuvered himself so he had half of Barnes’s body resting on top of him, holding him close, rocking him back and forth, and talking slowly, calmly, carefully at him. The rocking and the soothing quality of his voice finally started to break through, and the awful sounds died away, swallowed by sobbing hiccups that wracked Barnes’s body.

Finally, even those died away, replaced by ragged breathing that eventually evened out as Barnes started to stir out of Tony’s embrace.

“You good?” Tony asked gently. Barnes nodded. With a flick of his wrist, Tony deactivated the suit, and it disassembled itself like scales being stripped from a fish. In less than a minute, a red and gold suitcase was sitting on the floor next to them.

“What happened?” Barnes rasped, his voice clearly shredded by all the screaming, as he shrugged to free his shoulders from his Egyptian sheet cocoon.

“Panic attack. I’m thinking it was triggered by the wrong kind of porn,” Tony replied as he helped Barnes get his arms free. 

“Is there a wrong kind of porn? Shit,” Barnes swore as he shimmied out of the rest of it, kicking his feet free. Then he sat there for another couple of minutes, head resting against the bed, Tony still close.

“Don’t be a smartass. I’m thinking with your background of abuse, you want to steer clear of any heavy-duty bondage or sado-masochism action, Barnes. That’s what you had playing on the big screen. And considering the stink out there, you might want to dial back on the porn in general. Fuck, I cannot believe I just said that. I’m spending too much time with Grandpa Tightpants.”

“I like porn,” Barnes told him, shoving him away with his flesh arm (which is why Tony didn’t end up crammed into the bedside table with a new facial arrangement) to scramble to his feet, a fine tremor still working its way under his skin.

“Clearly. And often. Part of me is curious, and part of me just doesn’t want to know.” Tony sat for a moment longer, still watching the shivering man carefully for signs of relapse.

Barnes was on his feet now, unsteady, but finding his balance. “Practically no refractory period,” he informed Tony as he got to his feet as well. “Courtesy of the serum. Personal best 15 times in 24 hours. Woulda been more if I hadn’t slept at all.” Barnes’s stance puffed up a little, like a little kid trying to prove himself on the playground. Tony had a feeling Barnes remembered that from growing up with little Stevie Rogers and his incredible fist-finding face.

“Wow. Thank you for sharing. Not. So. Are you okay with me sending in the cleaning crew to straighten this place up? Steve’s not gonna be happy to come home and find it’s broken.”

Barnes leaned over to pick up the bedclothes he’d wound himself into, balled them up and brought them to his nose where he breathed in deep. Tony watched him warily, and then with dawning understanding. “I’ll leave the bed to you, okay? But the cleaning crew gets the rest of the apartment. And I’ll have tech come in and replace the TV. Steve was due for an upgrade, anyway. I’ve made the smart TVs smarter. We’ll put it all back together, better than new. I’d say he’d never know, but seriously, dude, he needs to know.”

Barnes dropped the bedclothes back on the bed and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Look, I don’t want … I don’t want to be here when the crew comes in. I’ll go back to my … yeah. I’ll be gone. You’ll tell Steve what happened, right? Tell him I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I, uh –“

“You can tell him yourself, Barnes. You two have more history than anyone else on the planet, for fuck’s sake. Why are you talking to me and not him? It’s killing him, you know. He’s really hurt that you’ll talk to me, but you won’t talk to him.”

“I, uh … I can’t. I don’t … I don’t deserve him. I’m not right.” He gestured with his hands to take in the damage he’d done to Steve’s apartment, the trashcan with his overabundance of cum-filled tissues, the mess he’d made of Steve’s bed, and he shrugged, like that’s all he needed to say.

Tony just looked at Barnes, his eyebrow arched disbelievingly as the big guy shrunk in on himself. “Who the fuck _is_ right, huh? Everybody’s got something broken. The key is finding the someone who has the something broken that fits your broken place, you know? Gotta feeling that’s Steve for you.”

“He’s not … I mean, he doesn’t … he wouldn’t –“

“Pretty sure he’s got a hard-on for you, too, Tin Man. Even if he doesn’t he’s not gonna judge. Even if he doesn’t, it’s gotta be way better than this, what you have now. Trust me on this, you’re so busy thinking about what you don’t deserve, you’re hurting him way more than he could ever deserve. Be kind to both of you, and talk to him.”

“I, uh –“

“Talk to him, or I revoke your porn privileges entirely. As it is, it's clear you need some help hitting some kind of porn-life balance. I’ll give you 24 hours from when Steve gets back. Speaking of which, any news on Captain Rogers, J?” Tony asked as they made their way back into the trashed living room. Barnes made a little noise and looked like a whipped puppy, so Tony reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. That earned him a quizzical look, so he just shrugged. 

“The SHIELD plane lifted off ten minutes ago, sir. I have reestablished communications. Captain Rogers is injured, but stable. Apparently, and I am quoting, the mission went to shit five minutes in, but Captain Rogers was able to salvage the situation.”

“Steve’s hurt?” Barnes demanded anxiously, his whole demeanor changing. Gone was the beaten down, fearful, and twitching recovering survivor – because he _was_ recovering, and he _did_ survive. In its place was the steel of the warrior, the lover defending his mate? Yeah, he could see some of Pepper in that stance …

“Down, loverboy. See, you’ll have something to talk about when he gets home. You can go all mushy over his manly injuries, nurse him back to health, and engage in hot recovery sex. Sound good? Yeah? Okay. J, tell Coulson I want to talk at him when he gets back. No ifs, and or buts.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! I've got the next chapter already started, and hope to have it up Sunday or Monday. I don't know about you, but this story has really surprised me. I had no idea what I was writing when I started it, but Buck's taking us all on an interesting ride!


	5. I Want to Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home with a gang and a villain in tow, Bruce Banner offers his thoughts, and Tony throws down with Coulson. Oh, and some progress is made. Steve gets high, and Bucky gets a small measure of revenge on Hydra.

“So, James is okay,” Pepper said, reaching forward and massaging Tony’s shoulders gently.

“As okay as someone in his position can be. I honestly don’t know if he’ll ever be okay. Shit, I can’t say _I’ll_ ever be okay. I think we can hope for better. Maybe.”

“He misses Steve.”

“And yet, he won’t talk to him, won’t allow himself in the same room with him. I don’t get it.”

“You said he doesn’t feel he deserves it. You should know how that feels.”

“I do. I remember. I still feel that way when I look at you. And then I remember how smart and amazing you are, and I figure, you picked me. You’re smarter than I am. So you must see something I’m missing. And then I just thank all that’s holy that you’re here.”

“That’s nice. Did you practice that in the mirror.”

“Elevator, actually. Did it work?” he waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “Is it gonna get me in your pants tonight?”

“Might have done, until you said that,” she slapped him upside the head and settled back against the pillows, laughing.

“Yeah, I always do go for overkill, right? Oh well.” He snagged his StarkPad and opened an app, typing furiously.

“No work in bed.”

“Not work. Adjusting Barnes’s account permissions.”

“Oh?”

“Restricting his porn access. I did not just say that. When did I become grandpa?”

“When you agreed to look after Steve Rogers’s oldest friend.”

“Pretty sure he’s more than that. But that’s his business, not mine. But Barnes. Well. Too much of a good thing makes one forget to eat, forget to bathe, and become like the creepy old man with the stained trenchcoat who hangs out in the back of the x-rated theatre. I seriously do not want that kind of addled thinking attached to that arm. Or the Hydra-flavored super soldier serum.” A couple more keystrokes and he was done. “Okay. Limiting his access to no more than 4 hours a 24 hour period, and blocking anything with bondage, discipline, sado-masochism, and restraints. It’s surprising how much of the oeuvre that takes up. Huh. Who knew porn fans were so kinky?”

“Pretty sure you wrote the book on that.”

“Pretty sure you could be right. Wanna check it out? You can play librarian, and I can be the science nerd. I’ll even wear glasses …”

&&&

Tony and Bruce were waiting on the roof landing pad late the next day when the Bus touched down. They both tensed as Cap deplaned, left hand clutching his side where blood still oozed around his fingers, head heavily bandaged with gauze stained rusty red. Overhead, on the penthouse-most penthouse part of the tower, they could hear the sound of boots shifting anxiously as Barnes positioned himself to … well, they honestly couldn’t be sure.

“What the hell?” Steve asked as he walked slowly, warily down the ramp.

“Can’t let you out of our sights, huh, Cap? Heard you went and got yourself hurt again. What will Barnes say, hmm?”

Steve had the good sense to look abashed, and his eyes ranged around the perimeter, no doubt looking for Barnes. No one really knew how well Steve saw – there wasn’t a way to measure better than perfect. But something in the way his eyes narrowed and his shoulders relaxed said that he’d managed to spy Barnes, when no one else might be able to. The way his expression changed from weary and hurting to hopeful and something not quite definable … well, that was a little heartbreaking, actually.

Seriously, all this pining between the two super soldiers was starting to get a little embarrassing. So much raw emotion on display. Tony was starting to think that an intervention wasn’t going to be sufficient – he was going to have to throw the two of them in a room together until they started fucking each other into the next week, or … well, he didn’t have a fallback plan from that, actually.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay, Steve,” Banner said, moving forward cautiously toward Steve on the ramp. “Come down to medical and let me look you over.”

“I’m healing, I don’t need a physical,” Steve objected, eyes still straying to Barnes’s position as he quickened his pace.

Tony took his cue, and stalked up the ramp toward Bruce and Steve, and reached over and clasped Steve under the ear, his fingers pressing against the back of Steve’s neck. A subtle pressure and Steve’s eyes went wide, then fluttered shut as he sagged against Bruce.

“You could have waited ‘til he was inside so I didn’t have to carry him as far,” Bruce complained, but the scuffling sound in the gravel atop the roof told them that wouldn’t be necessary. Barnes was by Bruce’s side almost instantly.

“What did you do to him?” Barnes growled angrily.

“Super soldier sedative. Fingertip injector,” he held up his hand, showing off the tiny device attached to his fingertip. “It’ll last about 10, maybe 20 minutes tops if we’re lucky. Enough to get him to medical so he can be properly checked over.”

Barnes nodded once, scooped Steve up in his arms like he was 90 pounds dripping wet, and stalked off for the elevator. After an arched eyebrow from Tony, Bruce grinned and followed.

Then Tony proceeded up the ramp, where Coulson was standing with his team.

“Mr. Stark. We’re about to take off. You might want to deplane, unless you’re planning on joining us.”

“Cut the comedy, Coulson. You know I want to speak with you. Privately. Put in a formal request and everything. So, get your ass in gear to come in and say hi to Pepper and have May park the Bus.”

Coulson stared at him for an extended moment, his face carefully bland as always, and Tony was concerned that the SHIELD Director was just going to close the ramp and take off with him standing there. He was prepared for that, but he didn’t know if Coulson was ready for the belly of his plane to be ripped open by the Mark 57 tearing through it to get to him.

Then Coulson nodded, touched his comm and said, “May, shut her down and stand down. We’re going to enjoy Mr. Stark’s hospitality for a short while.” To Tony, he said, “You don’t mind if my people stop by for a short break, do you? Plus there is the matter of our prisoner.”

“We’ll set up a buffet. Everyone can relax, take a shower. Take a nap. We can have a slumber party, do each other’s nails and tell each other secrets. And I have just the place for your guest – Hulk-proofed, more than anything SHIELD ever built – designed by Banner himself. You can have it all. Just so long as you come with me, _now_.”

Smiling tightly, Coulson nodded.

&&&

James didn’t let himself think how good Steve felt in his arms, how much he wanted to bury his face in Steve’s hair, stretch his body out along Steve’s and just feel his heat seeping into him. Didn’t let himself think how good it would feel to lay, skin to skin, cock to cock, lips to lips, and never separate ever again.

He didn’t let himself think all those things for more than a second before he forced them all down and focused on carrying Steve’s unconscious body to the medical suite, where he gently lay Steve down on the diagnostic bed. 

“Take his shirt off for me, will you?” Banner was asking as he shrugged on a white lab coat and started opening drawers to pull out instruments. He was arranging devices, including something that looked like a portable EKG, as he assumed that James was following orders.

He wasn’t.

James was oddly shy about touching Steve now, about removing his clothes, even for the purposes of medical examination.

This was different than observing.

This was _touching_. This was giving in to the burning need that made him so _wrong_.

Banner looked up from where he was fiddling with the controls of the EKG. “Something wrong, James?”

“No, I, uh –“ he glanced up helplessly and saw nothing but encouragement and compassion in those dark eyes under drawn eyebrows. “No,” he repeated, feeling more confident.

“We don’t have much time. I don’t want to give him another dose until the first one wears off if I can avoid it. We’ve never used this on him before, and I want to make sure it doesn’t cause any side effects before I give him any more.”

James nodded, and bent to his task, focusing on the spray of blood, the depth to which it had seeped into the fabric, wondering incongruously if anything would ever get the stain out. He used to despair after Steve’s shirts, ties, and slacks back when he’d try to launder out the blood from Steve’s unending string of fights, trying to get more use out of the clothes before they were just unsalvageable. James smiled a little at the memory, both homey and infuriating.

He undid the fastenings and pulled back both sides, revealing Steve’s bruised and lacerated skin, the network of discoloration obscuring the sinful beauty of Steve’s chest. With a sharply indrawn breath, James reached out with his right hand and ran it over Steve’s abdomen, up across his chest, feeling the smooth, soft skin and the warmth radiating from within. Steve’s pulse was steady and strong, a rhythmic thump against his fingertips.

James nearly jumped out of his skin when Steve’s left hand moved and clamped around his wrist, holding the hand in place over Steve’s heart. “He’s comin’ to – y’gotta sedate him again,” James demanded frantically, trying to pull his hand free, but unable to as Steve murmured, “Bucky. _Hi_ ,” and smiled. Fucking beatifically smiled. And rolled his head toward James, right arm snaking around his waist as Steve shifted to rest his forehead against James’s hip, his left hand still holding on to James’s wrist. “Miss you, Buck,” Steve sighed into James’s skin.

“I’ll give him another shot, but you’re on your own untangling yourself,” Banner said with a chuckle, and reached under Steve’s ear to press more of the sedative into his system. Steve’s smile widened as he sighed softly, and then he started to snore.

&&&

Barton and Romanoff were in the lounge waiting for Coulson and his team, and they took one look at the unconscious prisoner carried in on a litter by Triplett and Mackensie before Romanoff asked, “Hulk containment?”

Tony nodded once, and Barton and Romanoff fell in step with the two men carrying the litter, and escorted them to the elevator. “Containment level, Jarvis, please,” Romanoff said as the doors swished shut.

Pepper was there, too, looking cool, collected and completely in control as always. “Phil,” she greeted warmly, stepping up to the new head of SHIELD and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. As always, he looked embarrassed at the affection, even more so surrounded by his team. Pepper glanced up and smiled at each of them in turn. “Let me take you to the guest level – you can all get cleaned up, get some rest, and I’ll arrange for some food. Shall we?” Wordlessly, Skye, Fitz, Simmons, Morse, and Hunter fell in step behind her, leaving only May to hold back and glance toward Coulson.

“You okay?” she asked with a flick of her gaze toward Tony.

“I’ll be fine. There isn’t a place in the world where any of us would be safer. Well, maybe except for me, judging from Mr. Stark’s frown. But you’ll be fine. Go ahead, relax. You need it. You’ve _earned_ it.”

A smile quirked May’s lips and she nodded once and turned, gracefully closing the distance so she was with the team when they entered the other elevator, her gaze locked on Coulson again as the doors slid shut. Behind her, Pepper’s eyes were on Tony as she nodded with a smile.

“Drink?” Tony invited, moving toward the bar and picking up a cut crystal decanter.

“Scotch, neat,” Coulson agreed, eyes raking over the lounge area for clues to what Stark wanted.

“Huh. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you drink.”

“Haven’t drunk anything yet. Just a drink order.”

“Okay. So, explain to me what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Steve doesn’t work for SHIELD anymore. Fact is, he doesn’t work for anyone, never needs to work again the rest of his life. Plus, he hates SHIELD. Hates what it did to his girlfriend’s legacy. Kinda suspects that it was complicit in his boyfriend’s captivity. So, why pull him into your spy games, hmmm?”

“Intel on the artifact was solid. It’s not something I’d want in Hydra’s hands.”

“But it was already in Hydra’s hands.”

“On its way. Our prisoner had managed to … upset … the powers that be, was on the outs. Running for his life, apparently. The artifact was a peace offering. A way to buy his way back into influence within Hydra.”

“That he then offered to SHIELD.”

“Hydra wants inside the new SHIELD, too. They saw this as an opportunity.”

“That got even sexier with the possibility of capturing Captain America.”

“Yes. That was an unforeseen wrinkle.”

“A wrinkle that ended in Steve getting hurt. Hurt enough that nearly a day later, he was still bleeding. I’m betting he looked a lot worse at the time.”

“A _lot_ worse, yes. There was … there was cause for concern.”

“Do you have any idea what would happen if you managed to kill Captain America?”

“If I managed to do that, I can assure you anything you could do would pale to what I’d do to myself.”

“Not me. _Barnes_. And not just Barnes. The Avengers. The entire team. We’d live up to our name. You don’t fuck with family.”

“Is that what you are now? A family unit?”

“You save the world together enough times, you start to get a little close, sure.”

“Understood. I didn’t take you for the _Father Knows Best_ type, though, Tony. Is there an actual point to this conversation?”

“Why Cap?”

“Thor wasn’t available. He’d’ve been the obvious choice to deal with Asgardian tech. Or Sif. She’s proved to be more than capable and cooperative. There wasn’t time to wait until either of them were back on Earth. There was some urgency to the retrieval. He was about to turn the tech over to Hydra.”

“And he made an ultimatum you could have the toy if Captain America were the one to retrieve it.”

“Not exactly, no. But he _was_ the best man for the job at the time.”

“He’s in my medical suite bleeding. How does that make him the best man?”

“He’s bleeding. He’s not _dead_.”

Tony simply stared at Coulson for a long time, then downed his drink, setting it on the bar quietly. “How long? How long before you realize you can’t treat us as expendable?”

“I don’t. I have few enough resources in this world – or any other. And even fewer friends. I don’t put anyone into danger lightly. But Hydra is the greater threat. Quite possibly the greatest threat of terrestrial origin. Cap recognizes that better than most.”

Tony stared at Coulson for a long time before expelling a breath. “No more solo gigs. If someone’s able to take down Cap, how in hell can your team protect him? I’m guessing he got himself out and you, too, am I right?” Coulson had the good grace to look abashed and nod slowly. “You need one, you get two. And we have a say in the op. Clear?”

“Clear. I’d like to see Cap when he’s awake, debrief him properly –“

“No. You don’t want to be anywhere near Cap as long as you’re in this tower. Because trust me, Barnes is gonna be glued to Cap while he’s recovering. And he is not going to take kindly to anyone who let his boyfriend get roughed up.”

“Boyfriend – wait, you said that before. Seriously?” Coulson frowned. “I never would have guessed …”

“Yeah, sorry, but Cap’s taken. I know you’ve always had a man-crush on him.”

“Yeah, not _that_ way. So Barnes and Cap, huh? Wow. That’ll blow the lid off the historic reenacter community.”

“Yeah, it’s not something anyone is sharing right now. Y’know, with the whole no one knows Barnes is alive thing.”

“Yeah, of course. Other than the glue thing, how is he doing?”

“Professonal interest or personal, Phil?”

“Both. He’s a formidable enemy. And a potentially powerful ally.”

“Recovering. It’s a process. He’s got a long way to go.”

Coulson nodded soberly. “That must be hard on Cap.”

“You have no idea. And this separation … Steve’s injuries … he’s suffered some setbacks. So you see, there’s more at risk than you realize.”

“Noted. Now, you said something about a shower? And I have a prisoner to interrogate.”

“Banner will take a look at him once he’s done with Steve. Trust me, he’s secure in the Hulk containment.”

“Good. I have lots of questions. Like where he found Asgardian tech, and who his bosses are.”

“Good. I’ll sit in with you.”

“Good,” Coulson concluded, extending his hand to Tony. Tony glanced at it, then tilted his head, acknowledging his aversion to touching, but he took the hand anyway.

&&&

Ultimately, James had wrangled Steve out of his uniform and helped Banner clean him up. Wiping away all the blood and tissue had been heartbreaking, as James had traced every single injury to Steve’s beautiful body. There were knife wounds, the graze of several bullets, and bruises so deep, he could make out the shape of the objects that had caused them – fists, pipes, something that looked like statuary, gun butts. More than one person had inflicted these injuries on Steve, and James felt a decades-old urge to protect. And to inflict worlds of hurt.

Banner had finally put Steve on a diluted IV drip with the sedative solution, to keep Steve under while he tended his wounds. It also forced Steve to rest, something he rarely did well on a mission. Banner insisted that Steve could benefit from the sleep, and then added a nutrient pack to the IV.

“Might want to double up on those, Doc,” James said with a nod toward the bag.

“Oh, it’s formulated for Steve’s nutritional needs. I’ll add another after that one’s done.”

“You do this a lot, patch him up.”

“Enough. Not for a while – he’s been on, well, I guess you’d call it leave the last few months while you’ve been recovering here. But before that … any Hydra facilities you didn’t take out, he was gunning for. It’s been an eventful couple of years since I first met Steve Rogers. I’ve learned a lot about the limits of Erskine’s serum. Or rather, the lack of limits.”

James’s hand strayed to touch Steve’s forehead, index finger running along the bridge of his nose, and down to his lips, which were parted in sleep. Silently, James caressed Steve’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb, frowning.

Bruce cleared his throat gently. “He misses you, you know. You are … you’re the reason he keeps going, James. You have to see that you mean the world to him. More.”

“I don’t deserve him. I’m broken, twisted. Sick. He’s always been so … noble, the little shit. Always took up the fight for the ones who couldn’t fight for themselves, who couldn’t protect themselves. Always threw himself in harm’s way so someone else could be safe.”

“Kinda like someone single-handedly destroying Hydra bases around the world, don’t you think?”

James looked up at that, looked into Banner’s deep brown eyes and shook his head. “What else could I do? Hydra always wanted Steve. Always. I couldn’t let them have him.”

“You’re more of a hero than you give yourself credit for, James. And you and Steve deserve each other, deserve some happiness. You should allow yourself to be happy.”

“How can I deserve him? I look at him, and …” he growled. “I can’t stay here with him. I can’t be trusted.”

“Why not?”

“I look at him laying there and all I can think is ‘I want to fuck,’ I want to fuck _him_ ,” he added, dragging his hand over his nose and mouth. “What kind of friend thinks that? He’s injured, and I’m thinkin’ _that_?”

“Have you ever acted on it? Done something without his consent?”

“I watch. When he, you know.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s a little creepy, but I think you can be forgiven. Abuse like you’ve experienced, James, removes your choices, takes away your agency. It’s not surprising you are unclear on boundaries as you’re recovering your choice. I doubt Steve would ever blame you for watching. I somehow doubt that Steve would blame you for anything.”

“He’s a dumb punk. Never knew when to give up.”

“He obviously thinks there’s something worthwhile about you, James. He never gave up, once he knew you were alive. Finding you, that became his only reason for living. Finding you and bringing you home. Knowing you were alive changed him, empowered him. Brought him back to life.”

James stopped and looked at Banner then, really looked. He realized that he didn’t know what Steve went through in the months following the fall of SHIELD. Or even before, waking up from the ice. He’d somehow always expected that Steve would find him, but he didn’t think about what he did to get there. Never really knew what Steve’s life had been up to that point. And he really hadn’t thought about any of it since Steve had brought him back to New York, either.

“Everything Steve’s been through to find you, to bring you home, to be with you, I think you’ll find he thinks you’re more than deserving of his care, his friendship – certainly his love, and maybe as more than just his best friend. We’ve never talked about his orientation, so I wouldn’t know about that. But friend or lover, I think you’ll find that he doesn’t want to live without you, James.”

Well. That put a different complexion on things, didn’t it? James looked back at Steve, sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed, and nodded. “Did I hear something about a prisoner from Hydra? The asswipe who hurt Steve?”

Banner just grinned. And it wasn’t a kittens are fluffy kind of grin, either. James knew he liked Banner with good reason.

“Gimme an hour to get ready – I want in on that interrogation.” Banner’s grin grew wider.

&&&

The Hydra operative, Hugo Cartwright, had been kept sedated during the transit from Turkey to New York, and in the first hours of his incarceration at Stark Tower. Housed in the Hulk containment unit that Stark and Banner had designed – and field tested directly with the Other Guy – Cartwright wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He was trapped, twenty levels under the streets of Manhattan. This wasn’t a containment unit that could fall from the sky and bounce across the landscape taking out whole towns. This was a containment unit meant to be buried if necessary. Tony and Bruce played for keeps.

If they chose, they could simply forget about him, and Jarvis’s automated care system would keep delivering a breathable atmosphere, drinkable water, toilet and bathing services, and a basic diet that could keep him going for years to come. The unit was designed to be self-sustaining, should the unthinkable ever happen, and Banner lost the battle with the Other Guy permanently.

Tony honestly didn’t think that scenario would ever happen, but it was something that haunted Bruce’s nightmares, and so they built a thing against it. By all accounts, Bruce slept better knowing it was there.

Tony was glad that Bruce was his friend, because the dude had a formidable imagination.

And right now, he was glad that Barnes was on their side, too. Because faced with someone who’d hurt Steve Rogers, Barnes was full-on Winter Soldier, or at least had assumed the persona of the Winter Soldier, all the better to scare you, my dear.

While Cartwright had slept, Bruce had checked him over and confirmed that while the damage was spectacularly Technicolor, there was no lasting damage, no serious internal injuries, and he was deeply impressed at the restraint that Cap had to have had to not seriously damage this guy. Apparently the Hydra operatives who’d pinned Coulson’s team down hadn’t fared so well, caught in the crossfire of the team and Cap. May had made it clear that it had been a fight for survival, and Hydra wasn’t interested in taking prisoners.

Tony had a feeling that Cap was going to need a few chats with the house therapist, Dr. Taylor. Steve was always solemn and depressed when someone died, regardless of what side of the battle they were on. Whoever thought this guy was the ultimate soldier hadn’t taken into account the empathy that plagued America’s perfect soldier. But maybe that’s what made him the ultimate soldier – he never considered a life expendable, or collateral damage. Maybe that’s why old Erskine had picked a good man instead of a good soldier. Steve Rogers didn’t spend lives indiscriminately.

Anyway, Cartwright would recover, even if he would be wincing and limping for a while. Considering Cap’s condition in the medical suite, he got off way easier than anyone in the tower would have let him, and certainly easier than Barnes would have allowed. After all, the guy was still breathing.

And now he was propped up in a chair on the other side of the table they’d dragged into the room, across from the Winter Soldier. Who looked supremely bored, drumming his vibranium fingers on the table and blowing air out of his puffed cheeks to make his long hair bounce and flutter around his face. When Cartwright started to stir, he fitted his facemask and goggles in place, and settled back into the skin of the Winter Soldier, looking truly ominous. Seriously, the guy had ominous down to a friggin’ art form.

The Hulk containment unit had polarized glass that could be made opaque or transparent from within, depending on the current running to it. Right now, they had it set up to be opaque, so Cartwright and Barnes couldn’t see out, but they could see in. Bruce, Coulson, May and Romanoff stood in the control room with Tony, waiting for some action. Microphones inside the unit would broadcast to the speakers out here in the control room.

When Cartwright came to and found himself face to face with the Winter Soldier, he screamed. Tony considered stabbing the mute button, but he didn’t want to miss anything the Hydra puppet might have to say.

“Seriously? One look at the Winter Soldier and you piss your pants? This is the kind of guy Hydra’s recruiting these days? No wonder you assholes are a dying breed,” Barnes said from behind the mask, his voice made alien by the mask’s filters. 

Cartwright trembled, frantically searching for an exit, scraping his chair back to put more distance between him and the Hydra bogeyman.

Barnes rose, carrying himself with deadly grace as he moved quickly around the table and tipped Cartwright’s chair back, thrusting his face into Cartwright’s and pausing there, a hair’s breadth away, saying nothing. He tilted his head as though he were studying him.

Cartwright was breathing heavily, gulping, gasping, hiccupping air. When Barnes started to trace a line down from Cartwright’s hairline with his metal hand, Cartwright whispered, “ _Tesseract_.”

Barnes straightened suddenly and stared down at Cartwright, unmoving. 

The air in the control room grew tense.

_Tesseract was a trigger word._

When Barnes had first come to the tower, they’d pored over every bit of data they could find about the Winter Soldier program, unearthing details about triggers words and phrases used to control the Winter Soldier. Tesseract was one of the most fundamental triggers, shutting any remnants of personality off completely, making Barnes completely open to command. They’d worked with Barnes to unlock the triggers, and they believed they’d been successful, but …

Barnes’s metal hand rose slowly, and Cartwright seemed to think his trigger had worked. He smirked at Barnes, pushing back his chair and levering himself up to stand in front of the Winter Soldier. His confidence flooded back as Barnes continued to stand there, metal hand poised in the air.

“You are a loyal asset of Hydra, my friend. The Fist of Hydra. You will escort me out of this place, ensure my safety, and get me to somewhere I can reunite us with our Hydra masters. They will be so pleased to welcome you home. You have been gone too long.”

Barnes didn’t move.

Was he fighting against the programming, or playing a part? Or was Cartwright missing some other key component of the command structure? What if he’d triggered partial programming, and Barnes was stuck?

“You have your orders. You are happy to comply.”

Still Barnes didn’t move.

Cartwright was getting angry now, and he drew himself up to his full height – falling about five inches shorter than Barnes in full Winter Soldier kit – and poked Barnes directly on the chest. “Comply, Soldier.”

And that’s when Barnes moved, faster than Tony’s eyes could track. Cartwright was caught in a headlock, sputtering and gagging as Barnes stripped off his mask and leaned in, lips practically touching Cartwright’s ear.

“The Winter Soldier is no longer a Hydra puppet, asshole. The Winter Soldier is James Buchanan Barnes. Do you know what that means?”

“N-no?”

“It means the Winter Soldier is the best friend of Captain America. And you hurt my best friend. You know what I’m capable of doing. You know what Hydra made me. What do you think I’m going to do to the man you caused my friend pain, hmm?”

“What do you want?”

“Data. Names and locations and methods of contact for all your superiors in Hydra. For every one of them that we can verify and capture, you get to live another year. Starting _now_.”

Yep, Tony had to admit it, when Barnes was motivated, he had style. He glanced over at Coulson, whose eyebrows were raised toward his receding hairline. Mr. Director Agent was suitably impressed, as were May and Romanoff. Banner just looked proud.

“He’s good,” May said softly. “Can we keep him?” she asked Coulson. 

He sighed and shook his head. “Pretty sure he belongs to Cap.”

“You knew he was gonna do that,” Tony challenged Banner.

  
“I knew he was capable. He’ll do anything for Steve.” Bruce rubbed at the back of his neck, grimacing. “Now we just have to get the two of them in the same room while they’re both conscious.”

“I have some ideas,” Romanoff offered quietly. _Everyone_ looked nervous after that.

&&&

“Sergeant Barnes, I am in your debt,” Coulson was saying, extending his hand to James in gratitude. 

James stared at it for a long moment before raising his eyes to look directly into Coulson’s. “You can pay me back by not sending Steve on any more missions. Next time you think you need him, think again.”

“Sir, I think that’s something that Captain Rogers should decide for himself –“

“Dumbass punk never knows what’s good for him. Always running headlong into trouble, and I can’t always be there to drag his sorry ass out. So no, that ain’t something that Captain Rogers should decide for himself. _I’m_ deciding for him. The answer is no. Unless I give the okay. And I’m not gonna. So don’t bother to ask.”

Coulson turned around and looked helplessly at Stark who feigned innocence and shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated care, then grinned, snagged his drink, and raised it in toast to James. James inclined his head in acknowledgement, then turned to Banner. “How is Steve?”

“Resting comfortably right now. I’ve still got him on the IV drip – it’s one way of ensuring he gets the rest he needs. His body will heal faster while he sleeps. I can consider letting him go back to his apartment if there’s going to be someone on call to take care of him. Someone who can subdue him if he tries too much too soon … ?” Bruce added hopefully, watching James’s face carefully.

James’s stomach lurched at the thought of being in the same room with Steve, of caring for him. Being with him. Every nerve ending screamed for him to say yes, even as he knew that he couldn’t. _Couldn’t._ James shook his head. “Not ready for that, no. I’ll sit with him while he’s in the medical suite, though. While he’s sedated. So he won’t know I’m there.”

“James, Steve would want to know –“

“No. I … I can’t. Look, I’m gonna go now. I’m tired. I’ll take a nap in the infirmary, right? Yeah. Bye.” James raised his hand half-heartedly in farewell, and bolted for the stairwell.

&&&

“Well, it’s nice to see James using his words again,” Pepper announced cheerfully, then linked her arm with Coulson’s and led him off chattering about something that Tony didn’t really care about. It didn’t matter, but she’d managed to diffuse the tension in a heartbeat, one of her many talents. She’d bring him up to speed later. For now, Tony crossed the space to join Bruce, who was still staring toward the stairwell, a bemused smile on his face.

“Nicely done. You managed to get more out of Barnes in a day than any of us – including Steve – have managed in over three months. Seriously, you have a knack for therapy.”

“Thanks, it wasn’t me. Protective instincts kicked in. Think it’s buried in his DNA. I’m thinking little Stevie Rogers was hell on wheels when he was a kid. Barnes is completely programmed to protect at all costs. And nothin’s gonna break _that_ programming.”

“Big Stevie Rogers isn’t exactly a wallflower when it comes to throwing himself into danger,” Tony observed passing a tumbler to Bruce, who accepted it with a wry smile. “I wonder if that’s gonna change if he and Tin Man actually do hook up.”

“Big if, the rate they’re moving.” Taking a sip of the amber liquid, Bruce shook his head. “Do you think Barnes is going down all twenty floors to the medical suite by stair?”

“Nah, he’s probably rappelling down the stairway even as we speak. C’mon, you did good today. Come hang out, we’ll talk science, make quantum jokes, bore everyone to tears and laugh at how uninformed they are. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“You have a strange idea of fun, Tony,” Bruce replied, letting himself be guided by Tony. 

Tony grinned. It was a surprisingly good day after all. And he still had Coulson on deck to torture. For the moment, life was good. Tony planned to enjoy the moment. The next could turn to crap.

&&&

Later, when Bruce checked on Steve, he found Barnes sitting in an easy chair that Barnes had liberated from somewhere else in the tower. Barnes was asleep, half-sprawled across Steve’s torso, his face pressed against Steve’s chest, right hand clasped tight in Steve’s left hand. Steve must have roused at some point, because his other hand was draped protectively across Barnes’s shoulders, and a ghost of smile softened his features. 

For now, the two of them were actually in the same room at the same time. Maybe they weren’t talking yet, maybe Barnes wasn’t ready for that yet. But like it or not, they were communicating. And it was pretty clear to Bruce that they had a lot to say.

He glanced toward the readouts to confirm there was nothing amiss, quietly changed out the IV bags, and crept out of the room, leaving the two men out of time to be together in their dreams.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who knew the Agents of SHIELD were going to usher in a whole plot thing? I sure as heck didn't, until I did. 
> 
> And hey, while you're in the mood to read my work, go check out some of my other stuff, like my Steve Rogers as the first Bisexual Bachelor work in progress, "On the Air," or my A/B/O Steve and Bucky decide to adopt WIP, "It Takes a Village." I've got a couple of one-shots, as well as the ongoing arc of "Take Up Your Shield and Follow Me," which I hope to get back to once these WIPs are out of the way!
> 
> You know the drill - comments inspire me to write, give me a reason to live, and generally make me less cranky. You wouldn't like me when I get cranky ... :)


	6. I Want Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pepper Potts is awesome, Bruce Banner has a troll side, Phil Coulson is a fanboy, Sam Wilson is a good friend, Skye gets an eye full, and Steve needs Bucky more than ever. And James still can't see anything but the monster he imagines himself to be.

James woke to the sounds of metal clinking and fabric swishing. His face was fever warm and his lips and cheek were wet from where he’d slept in a pool of his own drool. His flesh hand felt numb, as though he’d been holding it upright for hours.

Blearily, he realized he’d done just that, with his fingers twined with Steve’s, his face burrowed into the pillow of Steve’s chest (surprisingly soft and incredibly warm), his whole body held in place by the comforting weight of Steve’s arm around his shoulders. His metal arm hung stiffly at his side. 

He’d never slept better in his life. At least the life he could remember. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the scent of Steve, the pure essence of him, not the echo held fast in sheets and pillows.

He could get drunk on Steve’s scent, filling his nostrils, filling his lungs, filling his soul. If he had a soul. He didn’t think broken things had souls. Wasn’t it a rule? Or maybe just a guideline. Whatever, he knew he loved the feel of Steve’s skin on his, the pulse of Steve’s heart under his hand, the curl of Steve’s arm around his shoulders. He could stay here forever and never grow tired of it.

If he allowed himself.

He would never allow himself.

He _could_ never allow himself.

With a whine, his eyes shot wide open to see Banner unhooking the IV drip from Steve’s forearm, and taking the IV stand away from Steve’s bed. Banner smiled encouragingly at James and whispered softly, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. His vitals all look good, and the largest wounds are healing nicely. Many of the small ones have already completed healed. He’s out of the woods now, so we might as well let him sleep naturally.”

“So he’s gonna wake up soon?” James asked softly, focusing on keeping his voice steady, even as he felt rising panic like bile up the back of his throat.

“Yeah. Given the way his metabolism works. I’d give it 5, 10 minutes …”

So of course Steve chose that moment to stir, hand sliding proprietarily over James’s arm and rubbing across his shoulders. Steve squeezed James’s hand tight and brought it up to his lips with a murmur of, “Bucky.”

James could not remember a time when his name – any variation of it – was spoken with greater tenderness, greater promise. Panic welled and exploded inside him, and his eyes blew wide in desperation. “I gotta go. Gotta pee. Got somewhere else I gotta be, now, this minute. Uh, I gotta go –“

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here. I can’t be here when he wakes up, not completely,” James muttered insistently, inching his way free of Steve’s grasp, which only seemed to tighten as Steve fought him in his sleep. Finally, he just sort of said fuck it, yanked himself free, and half ran, half stumbled out of the medical suite, leaving Banner to look after him with a bemused bark of laughter.

James got as far as the hallway outside Steve’s room, where he flattened himself against the wall, wiling his heart to remain inside his thorax.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, groggily, then said with more awareness, “Ugh. Who’s been slobberin’ on me?”

“Bucky,” James heard Banner say with a chuckle. He liked Banner, he really did, but the guy had an evil streak in him a mile wide. Actually, under normal circumstances it would make him like him even more, but he’d just ratted him out to Steve, and James was not pleased.

“Really?” Steve asked like someone just told him today was Christmas and his birthday and Halloween all wrapped up in the same day, with puppies, and kittens, and rainbows, and pink-cheeked angels. 

The hope and joy in Steve’s voice made James’s knees weak. He sank slowly to the floor, back still pressed against the wall. Better that than to run back into the room, bundle Steve into his arms, and kiss him into next week. Anything would be better that … if he ever gave in, he’d be the ruin of Steve, and he couldn’t afford that. James was too twisted, too broken for the likes of Steve Rogers.

“Really,” Banner was answering Steve, his voice teasing and light. “Never left your side, except for when he was threatening that Hydra goon.”

“Buck threatened the Hydra guy? Cartwright? For me?”

Sap might as well be asking if he’d gotten him flowers and a box of chocolates with silver-lined clouds in ‘em, he was so ridiculously pleased. It made James’s heart pound in an entirely different way, more fluttery than panicky.

Fuck, he had it bad. He had to get out of there before he did something they would both regret.

&&&

His body might be rested, but his mind was buzzing with nervous energy. Nervous energy and _thoughts_. Thoughts of Steve’s skin sliding across his. Thoughts of Steve’s warmth and the scent of him and the delicious way he set off James’s nerve endings like roman candles and … yeah. He really needed to shoot something.

Like _right now_.

He took the elevator up to the penthouse lounge floor hopefully. He was on the hunt for caffeine and sugar. Lots of sugar. He was also in need of a sparring partner. He needed – desperately – to burn off energy. Crawling around the tower, rappelling down the atrium, target practice in the maintenance sector, none of those activities were going to cut it. He needed to work out the kinks with someone else. Although, if Stark Junior had a workout bot, he wouldn’t say no …

He was drawn by the enticing aromas of coffee – real coffee, none of that ersatz stuff they drank during the war – warm, gooey sweet rolls of some kind, and bacon. Oh my God, he’d forgotten how good freshly cooked bacon could smell. He practically groaned with hunger as he came round toward the kitchen area where the food was laid out in chafing dishes with little sterno cans and flickering blue flames beneath to keep them warm. A huge urn no doubt contained coffee, rich and dark from the aroma that wafted his way. His stomach chose that exact moment to growl and grumble, and James frowned and blushed at the sound. He fought down the urge to punch each and every one of them. Twice.

The collective expressions of the people who were milling about the lounge floor were almost laughable. Well, no, they were eminently laughable, really.

“Um, James?” Ms. Potts asked, perfect eyebrow arched delicately in inquiry as she detached herself from the group. She was a gorgeous dame, long lines and proper carriage like one of them fur-wearing, diamond dripping rich dames you’d see in movies back in the day. Myrna Loy and Claudette Colbert. Harlow and Lake. Had a sweet, snarky sense of humor too, quick-witted and genuinely funny. As a hostess, she was attentive and always kind, and when she smiled at him, he always felt he must have done something wonderful to earn that smile. He knew he hadn’t. He loved her for her kindness and for the illusion she gave him that somehow he was human.

“Miss Potts,” he greeted with a duck of his head. “Morning.”

“Uh, morning. It’s so nice to see you. Can I get you some coffee? We have pastries and there’s warm oatmeal, pancakes, fruit, eggs, bacon – a little of everything – help yourself.”

“Thanks, I will,” he promised, and proceeded to ignore the stares he collected as he piled up his plate, filled his mug, and balanced the whole thing so he could grab utensils and a couple of napkins so he could find a place to sit down and tuck into his breakfast. 

As he settled into his seat, acutely aware of the awkward way that conversation sputtered and restarted and sputtered again, a stray and distressing thought hit him. He should tell Steve to stop making him meals. He should start being more independent, and let Steve off the hook. Stop being a moocher. That way he could stay away. He didn’t want to stay away. He … couldn’t stay away. God help him and Rogers both, he could never stay away. No matter how broken he was, he needed those moments of imaginary closeness with Steve.

He felt the pressure of the attention of the others on the floor, and relaxed only a little as conversation finally picked up the thread and seemed to move off him. He was acutely aware of them all, but he filtered them out so he could enjoy the extraordinarily good food. Then he felt someone peel off from the crowd long before he came into view, and James grimaced to himself, and then shoved an extra heaped forkful of food into his mouth so his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. 

“Sergeant Barnes, would you mind if I joined you?”

The cool, diffident voice belonged to the Coulson guy, the one responsible for Steve’s injuries. No, Steve was responsible for Steve’s injuries, but Coulson put him in the situation where Steve could too easily find someone to hurt him. James looked up from stuffing his face to spear Coulson with a glare, but the agent simply smiled and dropped into the seat opposite him as though he’d welcomed him like a long lost pal. James simply chewed.

“We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, I’m afraid. I’m very sorry for that. I’ve always admired you – I’m a bit of a history buff, and the exploits of Captain America and the Howling Commandos are a particular favorite of mine.” Coulson stopped just short of admitting that James was his favorite – good thing, because James really would have had to punch him then.

“I don’t do autographs,” James swallowed and growled.

“I’m not – well, I might have asked, but I won’t now. No, what I wanted to talk to you about was the incredible job you’ve done in ridding the world of Hydra. You accomplished more acting on your own than whole governments with significantly greater resources could.”

“Don’t have any bureaucracy to crap through. Solo operative can be more like a surgical strike. Cut ‘em off at the balls, watch ‘em bleed out.”

“Yes, I can see where that might be an advantage. The thing is, I wanted you to understand how much I hold Captain Rogers, Steve, in high regard. The highest. I would never knowingly put him in the way of serious harm. That artifact we recovered – it’s very powerful, very old, and could have put Hydra seriously back in the game. It was imperative that we get it back from them, and Steve, Captain Rogers, was the most qualified to do so. I’m very sorry he was injured, and I sincerely hope he recovers quickly. I can’t promise that I’ll never need to ask for his help again, but if I do have to, Mr. Stark has made it clear that he would insist on the buddy system – as he said, ‘ask for one, get two, one to do the job, one to pull the first one’s ass out when the whole thing goes balls up’.”

“Tactically sound.”

“Yes. I was hoping I could count on you to be Cap’s second. With your version of the serum, you’re fairly evenly matched. And honestly, it would be a personal thrill to see you in action together.”

James simply stared at Coulson for a long moment before a rusty, broken sound erupted out of his throat. It took a moment for even James to recognize it for what it was. He was laughing. It had been so long since he’d last laughed – overlooking a train along a track high up in the Alps, maybe? – his laugh was disused, out of practice. Sounded like rattling bones, really.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

“May I ask why? It puts you in full control of the op –“

“No.”

“But –“

“No.”

“Sergeant Barnes –“

“I said no. Now leave me the fuck alone so I can enjoy my breakfast in peace.”

Coulson rose smoothly and nodded once, his mild voice shaken as he offered his apologies. “If you change your mind –“

“I won’t. Now go.”

Coulson nodded and turned to go, moving at a normal pace as he rejoined his people milling around the food. James could hear their conversations from here, but he decided he just didn’t give a fuck.

He didn’t want to be a cog in Coulson’s machine. He’d been there, done that, got the metal arm, the Swiss-cheesed memory, and the seriously fucked up life. But the fact was, participating in the interrogation of Cartwright yesterday had felt good. Felt like he was more than a ghost in the walls, the pathetic loser who needed Steve Rogers to take care of him, but couldn’t let him near him. Like a wounded animal. He’d have to tell Dr. Taylor – he had no doubt she’d be pleased and call it some kind of progress. It almost made him feel a little better about himself, but then again, he’d also have to admit to how he’d cowardly exited the medical suite because he didn’t dare let Steve actually see him while he was conscious enough to be aware.

It sucked to be James Buchanan Barnes these days. Hell, it always had one way or another. His feelings for Steve weren’t anything new; in fact, they were the one constant of all his memories of his life before Hydra. He’d always been bent and broken, and nothing was ever going to fix him.

So he ate in silence for a while, shoveling the food – good though it was – as though it no longer had flavor, no longer had texture. Just calories, fuel for his twisted body.

He was aware of a susurration of sound, a change in the quality of awkward conversation, and suddenly found himself face to face with Steve’s friend Wilson. He was part of the team that’d brought him back, and he’d travelled with Steve every step of the way. James had often wondered if there’d been something more between this Sam Wilson and Steve, but he’d never asked the question. Never asked any questions, really. Until now, he’d been a ghost in the tower, not a productive citizen. An observer to his own fucking shadow of a life.

Wilson dropped into the seat James had chased Coulson from, his gap-toothed smile seeming genuine and unforced. Guy had a way about him; he supposed if Steve felt something for this guy, he shouldn’t be too jealous. Too. The warmth that radiated off Wilson was palpable, like a wave blown in from a distant hurricane.

“Barnes. Glad to see you, man. Just got in from DC last night. I hear you did some real good yesterday. Congrats. How’s Steve doin’?”

“Recovering. He was waking up when I left.”

“Still don’t want to see him, huh? I get it. But, you know, he really wants to see you. Hell, he followed you around the world for what – over a year? Just to see you again. I don’t want to pile anything on you, but you know you’re really hurting him, right? Is that what you want?” he asked, the wattage on his smile dimming as he tilted his head waiting for an answer.

“I want someone to spar with me,” is what James said, and Wilson’s smile broadened into a full-fledged grin.

&&&

Wilson surprised James by agreeing to go one on one with him on the mat. He expected Wilson to be easy, but the ex-pararescue was more than just his wings – he was a solid mass with a low center of gravity and intense situational awareness who could hold his own, and more than once sussed out the situation well enough to use James’s weight and momentum against him. More than once, James landed on his back on the mat, air knocked out of him, and a pleasant burn along all his muscles.

Best of all, Wilson concentrated on the mission at hand, and didn’t muck it up with extraneous conversation. He was a man used to radio silence when on mission, and he had the focus of a true warrior.

When it was done and they headed toward the gym showers, Wilson started talking at him again.

“When I first met Steve, I asked him a question, a question he still hasn’t answered. I asked him what makes him happy. He told me he didn’t know. That was before he knew you were alive, dude. I’m pretty sure if I asked him that question today, he’d have an answer for me.”

“So?”

“So. What makes _you_ happy, Barnes?”

“Not being asked stupid-shit questions.”

“It’s a serious question. It deserves a serious answer.”

“You accepted ‘I don’t know’ from Steve. Goes double for me.”

“Nah, I think you actually know what would make you happy, dude. I think it’s so close you can taste it, but you don’t think you’re worthy of it. I think you’re blaming yourself for stuff you had no control over, punishing yourself for somehow not being anything but human.”

“I gotta shower. I stink. So do you. And I ain’t answering questions about my feelings while I’m naked.”

Wilson chuckled as he followed, and honored the no questions while James was naked rule, but that didn’t shut the fucker up. James was tempted to hold him with his mouth open under the shower head so he drowned in his own dumbass prattle, but he had a feeling that would fall on the unacceptable end of the behavior spectrum. _See, Doc, I can make good life choices._ Even if Wilson may soon need to rethink his …

James had no embarrassment about his body, and didn’t cower or cover his nakedness during the shower, or after. Even the arm was something he’d come to accept about himself, as much as he accepted anything about himself – which, honestly, wasn’t much. But it wasn’t going anywhere, and to lose it now would put him at a serious tactical disadvantage. So, he accepted it for the thing it was, recognized its utility, ignored its ugliness where the metal joined damaged flesh, but held no affection or loyalty to it. If Stark Junior ever made good on his promise of a better model, he wouldn’t think twice about losing the arm that Hydra forced on him. From his perspective, it was as broken as the rest of him, so what the hell …

He was methodical about his maintenance, and sniffed his clothes critically before deciding that he wasn’t about to put them back on. The towel wrapped around his waist was sufficient for propriety, he decided. Wasn’t flashing the world with the wonder of his junk, and his asscrack was safely hidden behind thick-looped Egyptian cotton terry. So it would do until he got back to his apartment and his cache of clean clothes. 

Wilson was still shrugging on his ripe, damp clothes when James bundled up his sweaty pile and headed for the exit.

“Hey! You goin’ out there like _that_?”

James shrugged, flipped him the bird, and kept walking, laundry tucked under his arm like a pigskin.

“Hey, Barnes, you didn’t answer my question. If you ain’t gonna put on anything else, the no questions while naked rule is shit-canned. So spill.”

James pivoted on his bare heel and stared at Wilson, waiting. “What was the question again?”

“You know it, you arrogant fucker. What makes you happy?”

James chewed on his lower lip a moment, debating. It was a straightforward question, and there were a million ways he could answer it. 

Actually, there was only one answer, if he was honest.

He might be broken, but he was also honest. Brutally.

“Steve. Steve makes me happy.”

Wilson’s face was serious now – he recognized the ring of truth in James’s admission. He put down the towel he was using to dry his body and planted his fists on his boxered hips. “So why? Why not be with him? Why not let yourself be happy?”

“Because I’m broken. I’m twisted. I’m not good enough for Steve, I never was. Never. But now … now I’m not even good enough to live. But he won’t …”

“He’s not going to take you out, Barnes. Ain’t gonna happen. So you need to let that idea go. Need to find your way past it. And you’re wrong that you’re not good enough. You were always good enough, and from what I’ve seen, you always brought out the best in him. You need to figure out what you want. Do you know what you _want_?”

“I want Steve,” James said in a small, tortured voice. Because it was true. He wanted Steve, filling every minute of every day, whiting out the memories of pain and torture with the light of his personality, replacing all the bad things with everything that was good about Steve. Everything about Steve _was_ good. James _wanted_. But he couldn’t _have_.

The smile that Wilson gave him was incandescent, blinding. “I know that would make Steve happy. All you gotta go is let yourself –“

“That’s the one thing I can’t do, Wilson. I can’t ever let myself. I ain’t good. I ain’t right. I ain’t for him.”

“You’re everything to him, Barnes. _Everything_. Someday, soon I hope, you’re gonna realize that. You, just as you are, are everything Steve Rogers wants out of life. And you aren’t doing anyone any favors denying him the one thing he wants most.”

James stared at him a moment longer, studying him as though he could see through skin and sinew to the bone and soul beneath. He shook his head once. It all sounded nice. But James knew better. 

He turned and stalked out of the shower room. He heard Wilson’s heavy, frustrated sigh behind him, and kept walking.

&&&

James had gotten on the elevator on the gym level to ride up to his apartment, and that girl from Coulson’s team, Skye, was already in the car when he got on. He barely glanced at her, rested his flesh hand on the spot where his towel was secured, and stepped into the car and turned so he was staring at the join of the elevator doors. His hair was still dripping, and the water made a dink, dink! sound as it fell onto the metal of his left shoulder, and the air conditioning in the elevator made goosebumps crop up all along his exposed skin – which meant, every friggin’ inch of him.

He decided he didn’t give two fucks, turned toward Skye and her open-mouthed stare (more like drooling stare), and grinned tightly, then went back to staring at the doors.

“How do I get a job in this tower?” she breathed in awe.

“Get a superpower. Or fuck a superhero. Either one works,” he answered without turning back to her.

A nervous giggle escaped her, and he felt bad for a microsecond for being an asshole toward her. Because she tamped down the giggle and sassed right back, “Yeah, so I’ll get on that right away. Whadya think, super-obnoxious, or super-cool? Which one d’y’think would get me in with the Avengers?”

“Super-obnoxious is taken by Stark Juniod, and I got the lock on super-cool. Try again,” he told her as a grin started to tickle his lips. He heard her stifle another giggle. Then the elevator dinged they’d arrived on his floor and he started to shift.

“You’re one of my heroes, Bucky Barnes,” she told him softly. “I hope you get your Cap. You deserve your happy ending.”

He turned as he stepped onto his floor, and looked at her, surprised at the emotion on her face. She really meant it. She smiled encouragingly at him as the elevator doors slid shut.

“Huh,” he said to himself, surprised that someone who didn’t know him could know so much about him. Or could have such genuine warmth for him.

&&&

He wasn’t tired, really, having gotten a surprisingly good night’s sleep drooling onto Steve’s chest, but the workout with Wilson had definitely bled off some of the nervous energy building in his muscles. He tossed the towel aside and snugged down into the nest he’d made on the floor of his bedroom – a nest that he’d augmented with the sheets and comforter from Steve’s bed. He’d remade Steve’s bed with all fresh linens and military corners after the cleaning crew had set the place to rights, and kept the sheets with his scent on them. He sank into the pile of linen with a sigh, settling himself down while he tried to empty his mind. He was tempted to try out another of the toys Stark Junior had stocked the bedroom with, but kind of liked the soft, loose feel of his muscles after the workout, so he just laid there instead. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was late evening, and he was floating in that fuzzy space between wakefulness and sleep when he heard Jarvis’s voice anxiously announce, “Sergeant Barnes, I believe your assistance is required.”

Jarvis might be a disembodied AI designed by Stark Junior, but he’d been a stand-up guy to James since the moment James had set foot in the tower. Jarvis was as much a friend as any living person, a confidante, a guide, and someone who didn’t panic easily.

James was alert and on his feet instantly. “Situation, Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers has been released to his apartment, Sergeant. He appears to be in considerable distress, and is thrashing quite violently. I would ask one of the others to attend to him, but I believe he may inadvertently harm himself if he is not subdued by someone of similar strength, sir.”

Jarvis didn’t have to ask him twice. He knew exactly what was happening, and he knew what he needed to do.

&&&

James let himself into Steve’s apartment through the front door, the biometrics immediately recognizing him. “I’m here, Jarvis,” James said softly as he entered the living room.

“Yes, sir. Please let me know what you need to assist Captain Rogers.”

“Okay,” he breathed, standing still and listening for Steve, feeling the energies of the space. He could hear Steve thrashing in bed, hear the creak of the bed straining under the force of his movements, hear the headboard thumping against the wall. And he could hear Steve’s whimpers, his grunts of pain as he fought whatever it was that raged against him in his sleep.

“Um, how about some soothing music? Something with a gentle rhythm,” James suggested, and Jarvis started playing something that sounded like musical waves lapping at a beach. “That’ll do,” James approved, and moved carefully toward Steve’s bedroom. He eased open the door and took in the scene before moving into the room itself.

Steve had already shredded the new sheets and comforter; down puffed out of the torn comforter, floating incongruously around him as he kicked powerfully against the tattered bedclothes, arms tensed up and flailing against some unseen assailant. His head would alternately press back violently against the pillow, and then jerk spasmodically from side to side. The expression on Steve’s face was terrible – muscles scrunched up, brow creased with pain, jaw bunching and twitching with pressure as his teeth ground together. He was going to have a helluva headache tomorrow, and his whole face was likely ache as well.

Just then, Steve’s powerful forearm flung outward with a shouted, “No!”, smashing through his bedside table, splitting the thing into splinters and the tableside lamp into shards.

Stark Junior must have a warehouse full of replacement furniture on tap for Steve. There was no way this was the first time this had happened.

Yeah, he’d done this dance himself just a couple of days ago.

He’d just never thought of Steve as suffering like this. Never realized that Steve was every bit as human as any other veteran.

James started talking then, softly, gently, almost nonsense words to create a soothing wall of sound as he crept closer to Steve. A steady stream of comforting sounds as he moved closer to where Steve thrashed and convulsed on the bed.

Finally, he was within range to touch, and he slid his hand to thread his fingers through Steve’s right hand, and felt an immediate reaction – the hand instantly locked onto his, the grip almost painful in its intensity.

Situational awareness. He took it as an encouraging sign, and reached out for the other hand, sliding one butt cheek onto the bed as he reached for the left hand with his metal hand.

That hand grasped him tightly, too, but the pressure didn’t hurt, simply registered as data. He slid further onto the bed, slotting himself against the headboard, and using his body to leverage Steve’s into his embrace. He was still murmuring in a gentle rhythm as he slid his hands, still clasped with Steve’s, around Steve’s torso, pressing him close to James’s chest. He started a gentle rocking motion, raising the volume of his voice to encourage Steve to wake.

“C’mon now, big guy. Come back to me now, let go of whatever asshole is making you crazy, just walk away, I know you can do it. You ain’t never met a fist you didn’t wanna crash your face into, but this time I need you to walk away and wake up and tell me you’re okay.”

He kept up the patter, kept up the gentle rocking and the pressure around Steve’s shoulders and chest to ground him, to pull him back from the brink and back into reality, and gradually he felt the tension seep out of Steve, the frantic movements still, and his breathing steady. It took awhile, and James didn’t begrudge Steve the time, as he breathed in the essence of Steve, felt the warmth of Steve’s furnace of a body warm him, easing muscles that had tensed up after his workout earlier that day. Steve was better than a sauna and a massage any day.

He felt Steve’s hands tighten on his, the thumbs of each rubbing against his knuckles, and the sigh of Steve becoming aware, becoming aware that he was in James’s arms, and settle against the warmth and strength of James’s embrace. James fought down the panic that gripped him then. Steve was waking, and James was here. He couldn’t just run away now, he needed to ride this out until he knew Steve was okay.

“Yeah. There you are,” James said softly, letting his lips graze across the curve of Steve’s ear. “Let it go. Let it go, baby. Don’t let ‘em win – just let it go.” 

Steve’s hands released James’s, and James frowned, wondering why he’d let go, but then he felt Steve’s arms go round his own body, wrapping him up in Steve’s warmth as Steve shifted so his cheek rested against James’s chest, and his arms circled round his waist. “Missed you, Buck. Jesus, I’ve missed you,” Steve murmured, his voice still scratchy from screaming, still slurred from interrupted sleep, but, too, James could hear the longing, the happy sigh as Steve settled deeper against him. “Miss you so much. I’m bent for you, Buck. Ya gotta know that – always have been. Since we were kids. Been carrying a torch for you as long as I can remember. You’re the only one for me, Buck. Only one. ” 

Impossibly, Steve’s arms tightened around James as he snuggled even closer, and James closed his eyes to the tears that slid down his cheeks. James’s hands lay at his sides, where they’d slid away when Steve had let go, and he bunched them both into fists. He wanted to touch, wanted to hold, caress, adore.

Instead, he kept his hands to himself and whispered. “Was a bad dream, and now it’s over. Go back to sleep, Steve. You been hurt and you need your rest. You need to sleep. Forget I’m here, it’s just a dream. Just sleep, baby, just sleep,” he repeated like a mantra as Steve shifted against him, rubbing his cheek against James’s chest, letting his hands roam, exploring James’s chest and back. Then Steve’s hands started to smoothe over James’s hips, and thighs, along his abdomen and up his sides.

Jesus, James was getting hard. He wanted Steve so bad he could feel his resolve failing, feel his good intentions melting away in the face of the heat that was Steve curled against him. He wanted this closeness, wanted more. Wanted Steve.

He didn’t deserve him. Didn’t deserve to have this. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Mustn’t.

“God, Buck, you smell so good,” Steve was saying, his hand getting closer and closer to James’s crotch. If he confirmed James’s state of arousal … no. That wasn’t going to happen. James caught Steve’s hands and stilled them, pressed against his chest, and held them there. Just … held them.

He could feel Steve lift his face and stare at him, even though he had his eyes screwed shut so he wouldn’t be any more tempted than he already was. “Tell me you’re stayin’. Tell me you ain’t gonna leave me again.” Steve slid his left hand out from under James’s and reached up to touch his chin, his cheek. “Tell me, Buck,” he said more forcefully.

James opened his eyes and looked down into the pleading gaze of blue staring up at him. “Go back to sleep, Steve. You been hurt, you need to rest,” he ground out painfully.

“If I sleep, will you be here when I wake up? Will you stay?”

“As long as I’m able.”

Steve smiled then, that smile that ignited whole galaxies, inspired armies to lay down their arms, blew skirts up and popped hard-ons across the country. He snuggled back down against James’s chest with a happy sigh, and within minutes, was snoring softly as sleep reclaimed him. 

James leant his head back against the headboard, and allowed himself one small moment where his arms moved to embrace Steve, hold him close, and he pressed a kiss against the top of his head. “Love you punk,” he whispered once he was sure Steve couldn’t hear. “Fuckin’ love you.” And when Steve’s breathing steadied into the rhythmic rise and fall of deep sleep, James slowly released his hold and with great patience and great care, gently slid out from under Steve, leaving Steve curled into himself on the bed as James drew the tattered remains of the comforter up over Steve’s shoulders. 

And then, he silently slipped out of the bedroom and out of Steve’s apartment, feeling frozen to his core to leave Steve’s heated body, and feeling empty with a Steve-sized hole in his heart.

He had to be strong for Steve. Steve might think he wanted him, but he didn’t recognize that the Bucky Barnes he’d known and loved was gone, replaced by the walking corpse that was James. He’d be better off if he just left. As if he could, as if he could ever remove himself from Steve’s orbit.

Finally, he made his way back to his apartment, the scent of Steve still in his nostrils, on his clothes, and he dropped to his makeshift nest without changing, to wrap himself in Steve’s scent, his warmth, and cry himself silently to sleep.

He wondered if he imagined Jarvis saying, “Good night, sir. Thank you for your kindness to Captain Rogers. Sleep well.”

He might never know.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly 3:00 a.m. and I think this chapter is done, but I may wake up (all too soon) in the morning and decide to rewrite the last scene of the chapter like I did the last time. 
> 
> 5Nov14 - Yeah, fixed some typos, word choices and finished a couple of incomplete sentences. Nothing major. :)
> 
> Only two more chapters. Eyes on the prize!
> 
> Leave me some comment love!


	7. I Want to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new alliances are drawn, and Bucky finds out who his friends really are.
> 
> Seriously, you want to read this chapter, and I'm not giving anything more away!

Steve woke up the next morning with a headache that started at the top of his crown and extended down into his shoulders. It wasn’t uncommon for him to hurt just like that after a bad nightmare, so he thought of it as a “nightmare headache.” Unfortunately, the only thing that could really tackle a headache of that magnitude was total relaxation and one of the special pain pills Bruce had developed for him. Bruce was fast becoming his dealer, he’d recently whipped up so many new compounds to bypass the serum’s effects. Normal painkillers got metabolized so fast, they had no effect, just like alcohol. Which ended up meaning if Steve Rogers got a headache, unless he was on an IV drip, he just ended up coping with pain. Steve was good at coping with pain, he always had been.

He lifted his head gingerly from where he’d pillowed on his arms, rubbing at his eyes muzzily as he tried to orient himself. Back in his apartment, in his bed – sheets were a fractured mess, along with the comforter – it was toast. Good thing he’d learned to buy linens he liked in bulk. 

But.

_Bucky had been here._

Bucky had drawn him out of his nightmare, laid here in his bed and held him, soothed him, promised he’d stay.

Oh.

_As long as I’m able._

That didn’t mean long at all, did it?

Why did Bucky hate him? Did he really want to die so badly that he hated Steve for saying no? 

But … hadn’t he called him “baby”? He never used to do that, it was Steve, or Rogers, or “punk,” or sometimes Stevie when he wanted to get his goat, tease him. Never “baby.”

That had to mean something, right?

Oh, God, but Steve’s head hurt. Bruce hadn’t given him any heavy duty pain killers because he didn’t want him zoning out unattended with the stuff. He was going to have to drag his sorry ass back to the medical suite.

“Jarvis,” Steve called out, “could you please confirm that Dr. Banner is in the medical suite?”

“Good morning, Captain. Yes, Dr. Banner is currently in the medical suite. I suspect he’s expecting you, sir.”

“Hmm, thanks. And good morning to you, too.” Steve started to drag himself out of bed, hand holding his forehead carefully, when he had another idea. “Um, Jarvis, is today one of Sergeant Barnes’s therapy days?”

“Yes, sir, it is. Sergeant Barnes is due to see Dr. Taylor at 11:30 a.m., sharp. He is always on time, and Dr. Taylor is careful to ensure that Sergeant Barnes always leaves her office at precisely 12:30 p.m.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. I appreciate the attention to detail.”

That was very specific information, and Steve wondered briefly if there was some intent behind it. But he was grateful to know where Bucky was going to be later. He was getting tired of this dance, and maybe it was the headache and aches from his tussle with Cartwright’s Hydra goons, but he was damned if it was going to continue. He needed to understand _why_. Why Bucky avoided him, why he apparently hated him. Why he called him “baby” …

&&&

“James, why is it that you think you’re broken?”

“Because I’m not the kid who went to war. Not the kid that Steve is waiting to come home to him.”

She looked at him in surprise, a furrow between her brows. “Are you sure that’s what he’s looking for? Because it’s impossible for you to be that kid, the one who went to war. That kid didn’t have the experience of war. Or any of the experiences that make you who you are today. Just as … I’m not the same person I was when you and I met last. I’ve had experiences, interactions with other people, learned new things, had thoughts, made breakthroughs even, since then. Humans are constantly changing, evolving, growing. It’s not possible to stay static and be alive.”

James listened to her with a frown, but her words were intriguing to him. “But if that guy is who he wants –“

“I’m sure that’s not the case. It would be naïve to think that you could be unchanged by your experiences. Even without your capture by Hydra, the experimentation, the subsequent fall and torture – you would not be the same person. You saw more of the world, you got out of Brooklyn. You met people from other countries. You sampled other cultures. Made new friends. You spent time apart, learned that was something you could do. All of those things make their mark on you, change you in small ways. Sometimes big ways, but you take all the small changes and gather them up, and they are big as a group. Captain Rogers isn’t the same person either, is he? I’ll tell you what, you tell me all the ways in which Steve Rogers has changed since 1945. And then I’ll tell you everything I know about the Captain, just from the news, okay? All those things that have changed _him_ while you were apart.”

“Okay.”

&&&

Steve had stopped in to see Bruce, to get checked over, and collect a couple of super soldier pain pills for the road.

“Never thought I’d have a career as a compounding pharmacist,” Bruce chuckled as he measured the analgesic into gel capsules for Steve.

“Huh. I used to run deliveries for mine. Traded deliveries for my asthma medication when I needed it. Which was all the time. Trust me, I’m never keen to take drugs – had enough of them as a kid. But I had a bad night and my head is killing me.”

“Should I think about readmitting you?” Bruce asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“Only if you have the cure for nightmares.”

“Oh.” Bruce huffed a laugh as he finished up sealing the capsules. “If I had that, I could save the world.”

“Not be as rich as Stark?”

“If I had the cure for nightmares, it would be my honor and pleasure to give it away for free. Imagine what the world would be like without bad dreams.”

“So long as we didn’t lose the ability to dream, yeah.”

“Yeah. A guy can dream, huh? So, nightmare. I was hoping you’d just get a normal night’s sleep. What set it off?”

Steve shrugged, accepting the capsules and the plastic cup of water Bruce held out to him. He swallowed down the capsules and washed them down with the water. “They should kick in in a few minutes,” Bruce told him with a nod, but his face was still expectant.

“Nightmares kind of _are_ part of a normal night’s sleep, really. But last night’s was really bad. Probably the whole thing with Hydra, capturing that guy and the firefight. Getting hurt. Almost always have a really bad one after an encounter with Hydra.”

“Huh. I’m guessing that your time with the SHIELD therapist didn’t help much?” Bruce asked, leaning back against the edge of the counter and regarding Steve seriously where he sat on the examination table.

“Nah. And for all I know, that Doc was Hydra. Doc Taylor seems to be doing okay with Bucky. I mean, I understand he came out of the walls yesterday. Ate breakfast up on the main level, sparred with Sam, spoke to Coulson _and_ Skye.”

“Don’t think Taylor had so much to do with that. I really think it was James and his concern for you. Like I told Tony, I think his ‘protect Steve’ programming is unbreakable. He came out because you were hurt.”

“Yeah, maybe. He came to my room last night, when Jarvis called for help when I started trashing the room in my sleep. Held me through the nightmare. Til I fell asleep again, then he left. I just don’t get it …”

“You know we’re all pulling for you to get this resolved, right? I mean, however you want it resolved.”

Steve pursed his lips and looked distant for a moment before nodding to himself. “He’s my best friend and my best guy – the love of my life. I just want him back in my life, he doesn’t have to be in my bed, just my life.” He huffed a bitter laugh. “I’m guessing Stark’s got money riding on something. My sexuality, maybe?”

Bruce shrugged. “He wouldn’t be Tony if he didn’t. And I think we all suspected, really. But you know … I’d never recommend any type of aggression … but maybe you need to stop waiting for him to come to you.” Steve’s eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Maybe you need to go on the offensive.”

“You mean chase him.”

“Any other time, I might actually mean that, but under the circumstances, you’re still healing – you still need to take it easy. No super soldier gymnastics in a mad chase through the ductwork. Seriously, Steve, you need to be careful until everything is healed.”

Steve laid his hand across his abdomen, where the largest wound was still swathed in gauze, and rubbed at it absently. “But it will heal. I mean, if I open something up, it’ll still heal, and it’ll still heal faster than a normal person.”

“Yeah, sure, but you know, you shouldn’t aim to get hurt. Although, if what Barnes said is true, that’s the _real_ you, isn’t it?”

“Bastard won’t even talk to me, yet he’s givin’ away all my best secrets, damn him.” 

Bruce grinned. “So, take your doctor’s advice, and make him talk to you.”

“I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor,” Steve said as he buttoned his shirt back up and hopped down – gently –from the examination table.

“I’m not. But I am your friend. And like all your friends, I’m getting tired of all the pining. But it’s more than that.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to watch Bruce expectantly. “You got somethin’ to tell me?”

“Y’know, I do. I’m not that kind of doctor, as I’m always telling everyone. I didn’t swear the Hippocratic Oath. And James isn’t my patient anyway. So … fuck it. You love him right? Not just as a friend, but as a lover, a … hell, a boyfriend, right?”

Steve nodded warily.

“He feels the same way. In fact, that’s a big part of why he’s been avoiding you. He wants to have sex with you. He wants you, Steve.”

The smile that blossomed across Steve’s face wouldn’t be out of place on a teenaged girl who’d learned her crush crushed back, and on a man his size, it looked just as sappy.

“He does?”

“Yeah. His way of saying it was cruder, but yeah.”

“He told you this.” Steve was standing in front of Bruce now, looking at him earnestly. Bruce had the sudden urge to laugh – here was Captain America, looking all proper and iconic and aw, shucks, ma’am, and they were discussing his big gay crush talking about wanting to fuck him. Wouldn’t Fox News have a field day with that?

“When you were sedated and bleeding, yeah. He felt that the fact he could be thinking of having sex with you while you were injured made him broken.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Bucky Barnes I used to know always had sex on the brain. Surprised he didn’t have the clap by the time he was 20.”

“Another thing. He’s been watching. You, um, in your … ah, personal, um, time …” Bruce tailed off awkwardly, cringing at Steve’s anticipated reaction.

“You mean when I jerk off. Yeah, I know. I’ve been kinda giving him a show,” Steve replied slowly, braced and watching for Bruce’s reaction.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes went wide before he started to laugh. “So he’s a non-consensual voyeur, and you’re an exhibitionist, but he doesn’t know that’s what you are, and … Jesus, Steve. You’re like a friggin’ soap opera. You don’t need regular therapy – the two of you need couples therapy!”

“Gotta be a couple first.”

So. Man up, Rogers. Go get your man!”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Well, it’s doctor’s orders. Guess I’m gonna have to grow a pair and catch that boy.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to. Keep me posted,” Bruce said with a chuckle, patting Steve on the shoulder.

“Jarvis, location of Sergeant Barnes?”

&&&

The session went surprisingly well. Dr. Taylor’s challenge proved to be both illuminating and entertaining, but when she started to point out the various experiences and issues that Steve had dealt with just in the public eye – the fact that he was even in the public eye – James started to get an appreciation of how inward his view had been. He’d never given Steve a chance to grow and change during their enforced separation. He was expecting Steve to still be the Captain of the Howling Commandos, not the man who’d commanded ground and air forces to beat back an alien attack. Not the man who’d watched the love of his life fading away, and then tore down the very institution she’d built.

Not the man who’d burned half the world trying to find him. Not the man who shook from the force of nightmares, who cowered in fear from the boogeyman in his head. Until last night, James hadn’t even been aware that Steve had had nightmares like that. Like he did.

He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t alone, or rather, he really didn’t have to be.

Hadn’t realized he’d left Steve alone, to deal with his fears and his terrors in an alien time. Granted, he’d technically been dead, and the last 70 years hadn’t been any fun for him, either. But he hadn’t thought about the shit that Steve had had to deal with on his own.

Honestly, part of James still expected Steve to be 5’4” of feisty, flailing fury, not 6’2” of carefully contained captain. 

He had only looked at himself, the fact that the cocky kid from Brooklyn, the sharp dresser with a dame on each arm and a little guy in his heart, had gone to war and been changed irrevocably by it.

He hadn’t taken the time to recognize that the little guy had been carrying the weight of his death, the weight of his own transformation, the lost years and a very different, lonely present, the resurgence of everything he’d fought against, an alien fucking invasion, _and_ Stark Junior, for fuck’s sake.

Steve wasn’t the same, either.

And maybe James could work with that.

James nodded farewell to Dr. Taylor and opened the office door to leave.

And found himself face to face with an angry looking Steve Rogers.

James took a step backward and closed the door again.

Oh, fuck.

“Gotta back entrance to this place?”

&&&

Steve wrenched the door open and stalked into Dr. Taylor’s office, eyes immediately tracking toward the air conditioning grate torn off the wall. Dr. Taylor looked from Steve and over her shoulder to the grate, and pointed up toward the grate with her thumb.

“Captain Rogers, I can recommend someone for the two of you.”

“Huh?”

“Couples therapy. I’ve never seen a couple so in need before.”

“Uh, thanks?” And then he called up to Jarvis, “Jarvis, what is Sergeant Barnes’s location?”

“Sergeant Barnes has requested that I not share that information with you, Captain Rogers. I am sorry.”

“Bullshit, Jarvis. This has got to end, and you are going to help me.”

“Oh, thank you , sir. I am so relieved to hear you say that. Sir instructed me that if you should ever command me to assist, I was relieved of any promises made to Sergeant Barnes.”

“Good. I’ll thank Tony later. Now, where is Sergeant Barnes, and where is he heading? I need to know where I can cut him off …”

&&&

For the next two hours, James covered a massive amount of ground by way of the tower’s air ducts and maintenance shafts. With Jarvis’s help, he tracked Steve, always staying twelve steps ahead of him. James was quite pleased with his tactical advantage but after a while, the constant pursuit was wearing him down. He hadn’t eaten anything yet today, having avoided the penthouse lounge floor and the breakfast spread there, and he hadn’t gone to Steve’s to see if he’d left any meals in the fridge for him. His own place was poorly stocked because he wanted to keep having Steve make his meals. 

He might need to rethink that particular strategy. Clearly Steve was getting to the point where he wasn’t satisfied with a shadow relationship, and he wanted some face time with James.

James just wasn’t ready. Fuck if he didn’t want it so bad it made his teeth hurt. But, no, he really wasn’t ready.

But he was really getting hungry. He needed to fuel up if he was going to keep up dodging Steve. His flavor of the super soldier serum, like Steve’s, required massive caloric intake on a fairly regular basis, and he was beginning to feel light-headed from lack of food.

He confirmed with Jarvis that Steve had taken a break due to his injuries, and was back in the medical suite getting pain meds again. Damn, Steve must really be hurting if he was getting pills. Even as a kid, with his scoliosis and flat feet and all his other physical problems, Steve rarely complained, and never took any kind of pain medicine for it. He just ducked his head down and bulled through it. Granted, there wasn’t a lot he could take at first that wasn’t some derivative of poppy juice, and that wasn’t cheap. Even aspirin when it came into use wasn’t cheap. So Steve just learned to live with pain. So if Steve was taking any kind of medication for pain, he must be in fucking agony.

James felt bad about that, but Steve in pain was going to move a little slower, and if he was down so many levels in medical, that gave James a window of opportunity. He broke off from his escape route, and headed back to Steve’s place to grab a snack.

He dropped out of the air duct and onto the floor quietly, and made his way quickly into Steve’s apartment and then to his kitchen. As expected, Steve hadn’t made up any meals, but Ms. Potts must have had someone deliver some covered dishes, because Steve’s refrigerator was stacked with them. He snagged one, popped the lid and saw something that looked appetizing, and started eating it cold. 

Hmm. Spicy chicken dish with a creamy sauce over rice. He’d have to find out what it was called, because it was delicious, even cold. He shoveled it in, barely chewing, and paused every few moments to query Jarvis on Steve’s location. Jarvis kept assuring him that Captain Rogers was stationary on the medical floor, and would Sergeant Barnes please not choke himself on the food he was eating? Jarvis was unable to perform the Heimlich maneuver, and none of Sir’s bots were capable either.

James grinned around his food, but acquiesced, ate slower, and took the time to chew the food and enjoy it more. Then he grabbed a jug of milk out of the fridge, poured a tall glass of milk, and chugged it down.

One of the advantages of his metabolism is that once he had fuel in his system, his system began to recover immediately. The lightheadedness passed quickly, and he felt more alert and energetic. Mission accomplished. He queried Jarvis one more time about Steve’s location, and then quickly washed his dishes and set them on the drain board to dry. Then he was through the door and back into the elevator entryway, about to climb back into the ducts.

Only the ducts were occupied. By a service bot and a thick vapor.

“Jarvis, why is there a bot in my duct?”

“Routine maintenance, sir. Sir initiated a systemwide cleansing of the air duct network after Ms. May complained of an odd odor in her guest room.”

“And he started it up _now_? What if I’d been in the ducts?”

“I was under orders to delay the action until you were safely out of the network, sir. And once you exited for your meal, I commenced the cleansing.”

“And now I can’t escape into the ducts. Okay, I’ll take the stairs –“

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible for the time being, Sergeant Barnes. Sir has initiated a sterilization protocol on the stair system. Ms. Skye swears she saw a mouse, Sergeant. Not possible, but she was insistent.”

“Okay, so that leaves the elevator. You’re not doing any maintenance on that, are you, Jarvis?” James asked warily. His senses were tingling – this was all too coincidental, and he didn’t trust Stark Junior as far as he could throw him – and even in his suit, that was pretty far.

“I’ve called the elevator for you, sir. It will be here momentarily.”

“And where is Captain Rogers now, Jarvis?” James asked as the elevator arrived, the gentle ding indicating the car had stopped. As the door slid open and James found himself again face to face with Steve, he heard Jarvis say in stereo (in the elevator car and in the entryway where James stood), “He’s right in front of you, sir.”

&&&

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Steve was back with Bruce in the medical unit, but this time it was to track Bucky’s progress through the vent system. He could have gone down to Stark’s lab, or up to the penthouse, or even to his own apartment, but he figured Bruce had earned this, and his scientist friend was definitely enjoying watching the tagged figure scurrying through the bowels of the building, while Steve and Bruce hung out comfortably in the medical suite.

“So Jarvis is feeding him false intelligence, making him think you’re in hot pursuit.”

“Yep. Meanwhile, I’m resting my wounds while Buck wears himself out. Taking what he thinks is a strength, and turning it into a weakness,” Steve said smugly, watching the monitor while he stood in front of his, arms crossed comfortably across his chest.

“Remind me never to play poker with _you_ ,” Bruce commented, chuckling.

“Oh, I’m crap at poker. This is battle strategy. This is something I’m _good_ at.”

They observed for the next hour or so, until Tony wandered by to join them. Actually, he’d been looking for Bruce to play science with, but when he found out about Operation Barnes, he was delighted, and made some suggestions for things that Jarvis could do to hurry things along in the direction they all wanted.

“So, Barnes, huh?” Tony said to Steve under an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah. You okay with that?”

“Hell, yeah. Just want you to be happy, Cap. I’ll find something good to tease you about later. But hey – Barnes’s arm. I’m working on a replacement, lighter, more advanced, better range of motion and sensation. Any requests?”

“Requests? For what?”

“Built-in sex toys. I figure you’re going to get the most use out of that arm if you two become an item.”

“Shit, Tony. No.”

“Imagine the possibilities.”

“Tony, ew,” Bruce chimed in.

“You guys are no fun. It could be epic.”

“It could be unhygienic,” Steve countered.

“Oh, that’s your first thought about sex with you ex-assassin boyfriend? Hygiene?”

“It’s important to some people, Tony,” Bruce pointed out with a grin.

“Besides. It’s not like Bucky’s a mix master or whatever. No interchangeable parts.”

“I was thinking more Transformer, but whatever. Okay, I won’t build in a pump action artificial –“

He was cut off by Steve clamping his hand over his mouth. “Jarvis, what’s the news on Sergeant Barnes?” he demanded, his voice a bit strained and high.

“Sergeant Barnes is in your quarters raiding your refrigerator, sir.”

Steve said, “Good,” as Tony asked, “Why is he raiding _your_ fridge? He hasn’t put in a grocery order for his own yet, and he raids your fridge? Yeah, this is love.”

“It kinda is, Tony,” Steve agreed. 

“Sergeant Barnes is currently washing his dishes, Captain. I believe he will attempt to leave the apartment shortly.”

“Unless he decides to roll around your sheets again and wrap himself up in your patriotic man stink,” Tony suggested with a leer. “Activate cleansing protocols, J.”

“My sheets?”

“It’s a thing he does when you’re not around. Says your scent helps him sleep.”

“When did he tell you this?”

“Oh, right after he trashed the apartment because he didn’t skip a porn flick about restraints, bondage, and punishment. Triggered the hell out of him. So I had the clean-up squad come in and make it pretty. He kept the sheets, though. I have it on good authority he sleeps on the floor all curled up in your sheets.”

“Well, that’s no weirder than some of the other stuff he’s been doing, and it makes sense – the sense of smell is very evocative. Surrounding himself in your scent probably calms him down, Steve,” Bruce offered.

“Captain, I believe it is time,” Jarvis announced, and Steve nodded, a tight smile on his tense face.

A few minutes later, Steve was on the elevator, asking Jarvis the location of Sergeant Barnes. The car eased to a stop and the doors slid open, just as Jarvis said, in the elevator car, and out in the lobby, “He’s right in front of you, sir.”

&&&

“Steve,” James greeted warily, taking a step backward away from the elevator. 

Steve strode out and then stopped, looking him over. “Buck,” he greeted. He wasn’t giving off any vibe that James could latch onto, just blank as he seemed to assess the situation. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Um, lunch? I was runnin’ on empty, had to refuel. I got nothin’ at my place.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. What’s mine is yours, just like always. You know that.” Steve took a couple more steps into the space, and James took a couple of steps back. He was still well far away from the wall, and there was always a chance that Stark’s cleaning protocols might end soon, and he could escape through the vents or staircase. So for each step Steve took forward, James took a corresponding step backward.

“Um, yeah. I washed the dishes. You know I broke your place while you were gone.”

“Yeah, Stark told me. And then you helped put it back together. But you didn’t mean to break my place – I understand something triggered you.”

“Yeah. Bad porn. I mean, porn that had bad stuff in it.”

“You were watching porn in my apartment.” James shrugged affirmative. “And you slept in my bed.” James nodded, a little more warily this time. James felt the wall was getting close, and reached out with his flesh hand to graze his knuckles against it. He kept going backward and Steve kept following, that intense expression on his face, his eyes dropping to James’s lips and much, much lower, and then flicking back to his face, his eyes. Assessing. _Wanting_.

And damn, if that didn’t turn him on. Not the backing away part, but the stalking part. The sense of a big animal sensually stalking its prey, and he was the prey. 

And the wall was there, and he felt himself flattening against it, and Steve was still coming.

“And when you watched that porn, what kind of porn was it?”

“What kind?” James repeated, his voice suddenly a little higher than usual.

“Yeah. Girl on girl, MILFs, amateur vids, what?”

“Men. Men on men. Gay. Gay porn.”

Steve was right there now, inches away. He leaned in and James felt his breath on his ear. “And how did that make you feel?” He straightened back up and looked at James expectantly.

“Hard. I jerked off a bunch of times. Stark Junior said your apartment smelled like a frat house. Think I set a few records.”

“Probably _his_ frat house. I’m sorry I missed that. I’d’ve liked to have _watched_ ,” he added with a smile that was all teeth.

James felt the twitch in his pants and nearly fainted. “Yeah, about that. I’ve been watching. Watching you.”

“I know. I’ve been giving you a show.” Steve preened a little.

“You … you knew I was there?”

“Yeah. I wanted you to come closer, but you didn’t. So I played it up to you. Tried to give you what you needed.” There were mere inches separating them now, and James could feel the heat radiating off Steve’s body. “I’ll always give you what you need, Buck. If you’ll let me.”

“I, uh … You didn’t though. Not when I asked.”

“I’m not gonna kill ya, Buck. I can’t bear the thought of living without you. I downed that fucking plane because you were gone. I know what it feels like to want to die. But you’re here now. I want to know what it feels like to live. With you.”

“I … me, too. I want to live, too.” And James was surprised to realize that he did. He looked into Steve’s eyes and saw the surprise and delight there in those brilliant blue eyes.

“You do?”

James nodded.

“What else do you want, Buck?” Steve breathed, his hands fluttering at his sides, until one after another, they lifted to flatten on the wall on either side of James’s head.

“I want …” James swallowed hard and focused on Steve’s eyes, the dark of his pupils spreading wider, eclipsing the blue. 

Steve’s face slid closer, and he asked softly, “Yeah? What do you want?” Steve’s breath ghosted over James’s skin, making him feel dizzy and far too warm.

Unbidden, James’s flesh hand rose to touch Steve’s cheek, and the moan the ripped out of him went straight to James’s dick. _Jesus Fuck_. If fingers on his cheek did that, what the hell would serious touching do?

James discovered he needed to know. He needed to know every sound that Steve could make, every moan and groan and scream and begging noise that he could rip out of Steve’s mouth.

“ _I want you_.”

“Oh, thank God,” Steve whispered urgently, and then there was no space between them, just the crush of Steve’s mouth on his, and hands, hands everywhere, hands touching, hands roaming, hands claiming.

And Bucky felt as though he’d finally come home from war.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... what'd you think?
> 
> One more chapter to go. I'm gonna be sorry when this story is done. I've had so much fun letting Bucky dictate, and now of course Steve has made clear his requirements as well.
> 
> Want that last explicit chapter? Comment me! ;)


	8. I Am Not Able to Write Porn Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I updated my status in a comment, and that was probably a mistake, as a number of people have left impatient comments about this story being updated.
> 
> This story is on hiatus, for an indefinite period of time.
> 
> Why have I forsaken you? Why am I torturing you by withholding the smut and the porn?
> 
> I'm not. I just can't write porn right now. On November 20, 2014, my Mom died unexpectedly. I was her caregiver, and she was my best friend. I am in mourning. I am also dealing with her estate, which is, quite simply, a soul-destroying exercise. The cataloguing and disposition of a life ... not for the faint of heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just don't have it in me to write porn right now. I will. I started chapter 8, and I have the very last scene of it written as well. It's the bits in between - the bits everyone wants to read - that need to be written.
> 
> Don't get me wrong - I am happily reading it, but I just can't write it. I am working on some of my other stories, which aren't as explicit as this one, because writing gives me pleasure and it gives me comfort.
> 
> So, without further ado, here is a bogus chapter 8 - the opening scene is actually the first scene of the real chapter 8, and then what follows is, well, crack. Enjoy.

Chapter 8.1 – I Am Not Able to Write Porn Right Now

Steve broke off and rested his forehead against Bucky’s, breathing heavily. Bucky nuzzled at his lips with his own, and Steve smiled into the kiss. “Are you okay? You still with me?” Steve breathed against Bucky’s lips.

“Til the end of the line, right? That’s what we always say,” Bucky agreed, chasing Steve’s lips with his own.

“Just wanna make sure. Don’t ever wanna lose you again. We should take this inside –“

“So hard I don’t think I can walk –“

“Have to do something about that, then,” Steve practically giggled, reaching down between where they continued to rut against each other, and palming the erection straining against Bucky’s pants.

“Mmmm, keep doing what you’re doin’ … feels good,” Bucky murmured, mouthing Steve’s chin and working his way down Steve’s neck. Steve threw his head back, exposing his neck to Bucky’s attentions, and called out to Jarvis,” Jarvis, could you please lock down our floor – no visitors for the foreseeable future. _No one_.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve shut off the elevator and the coded the stairwell to prevent intruders. And may I said, Sir sends his regards. He said, and I quote, ‘Get you some, Cap! About fucking time.’ I apologize, Captain Rogers, but Sir asked me to convey the message as spoken.”

Steve giggled into Bucky’s neck as they thrust against each other, panting with exertion and pleasure. “Fucking everyone knows we’re doin’ this, huh?” Bucky grunted as he caught Steve’s earlobe between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth, then continued to suck and lick his way down Steve’s neck, earning him a long series of moans so delicious, he felt it all the way down his cock to his balls. He grabbed Steve’s ass and pulled him closer, trapping their straining cocks against each other. Still in their clothes, they were thrusting against each other enthusiastically, chasing friction and release. 

“Oh, fuck, Steve, fuck,” Bucky groaned against his skin. “Fuck, do that again,” he demanded after Steve had thrust hard and fast against him. “Keep doing it, baby.”

&&&

In the end the sex was so intense, the pleasure so complete, that after a while, they simply transmogrified. A week later when Tony finally overrode Jarvis’s privacy protocols and entered Steve’s floor of the tower, all he could find was a gelatinous smear on the floor by the massive windows overlooking Manhattan, and the remains of Barnes’s arm. The arm and its armature laid there, all the wiring and reinforced struts that had been embedded in Barnes’s body, the shoulder socket, and the filaments that had fed directly into his brain, all intact, shining, and covered in that milky bio-residue.

Bruce’s analysis confirmed that the goop contained two separate – and copious – samples of semen, and two separate samples of DNA – Steve and Bucky distilled into their purest physical essence. The sample was large enough that he was able to do some testing with it, and was surprised to discover the secrets he’d been searching for had been trapped in Steve and Bucky’s combined DNA. The answer had never been in one or the other – you need them both to unlock the super-soldier code. It seemed fitting that even then, the two men were inseparable. Hydra’d gotten it all wrong. So had the US military. It was never about super-soldiers and formulas – it had always been about the men, and the love they’d always felt for each other. That was something no lab could ever hope to replicate.

But his discovery about the super-soldier serum was something Dr. Bruce Banner would never admit to anyone. Instead, he used a small quantity of the DNA sludge to synthesize a cure for his condition, placing the Hulk firmly in the past, and opening up a future he’d long ago stopped hoping for. He also developed a cure for Pepper, effectively shutting down the Extremis that bloomed in her body periodically, and returning her to her own baseline normal.

There was nothing he could do for Tony – Tony was, alas, born that way, and not a mutation or a chemically enhanced human. He was simply Tony, with all that implied.

Tony did make a funny comment about the DNA slime and the common cold, so Bruce took a another look, just to humor him. And they were both shocked to discover that the cure for the common cold was indeed trapped within the combined double helixes. 

A few months later, Stark Industries took a new cold remedy to the FDA, filed their IND and started phase I clinical trials with a series of carefully designed protocols. No one at the tower was particularly surprised that a common side effect reported in the trials was increased libido and sexual potency. Or a fondness for khaki, leather, the Andrews Sisters, and flying cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you, and welcome comments. In fact, I kinda live for them right now, so comments would be really, really nice.


	9. I Love Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally face to face, Steve and Bucky can be nothing but honest with each other about how they feel. The predator has become the prey, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Here we are. Nearly 18 months later, and we have smut. Not all the smut. The beginnings of smut. The first salvo of smut. You wanted smut. Smut is what you shall have. Have a little feelings with your smut, maybe a little angst, too. But, hey. I've finally written some of the smut you were promised.

Steve broke off and rested his forehead against Bucky’s, breathing heavily. Bucky nuzzled at his lips with his own, and Steve smiled into the kiss. “Are you okay? You still with me?” Steve breathed against Bucky’s lips.

“Til the end of the line, right? That’s what we always say,” Bucky agreed, chasing Steve’s lips with his own.

“Just wanna make sure. Don’t ever wanna lose you again. We should take this inside –“

“So hard I don’t think I can walk –“

“Have to do something about that, then,” Steve practically giggled, reaching down between where they continued to rut against each other, and palmed the erection straining against Bucky’s pants, massaging and stroking him with gentle insistence.

“Mmmm, keep doing what you’re doin’ … feels good,” Bucky murmured, mouthing Steve’s chin and working his way down Steve’s neck. 

Steve threw his head back, exposing his neck to Bucky’s attentions, and called out to Jarvis, ”Jarvis, could you please lock down our floor – no visitors for the foreseeable future. _No one_.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve shut off the elevator and the coded the stairwell to prevent intruders. And may I say, Sir sends his regards. He said, and I quote, ‘Get you some, Cap! About fucking time.’ I apologize, Captain Rogers, but Sir asked me to convey the message as spoken.”

Steve giggled into Bucky’s neck as they thrust against each other, panting with exertion and pleasure. “Fuckin’ everyone knows we’re doin’ this, huh?” Bucky grunted as he caught Steve’s earlobe between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth, then continued to suck and lick his way down Steve’s neck, earning him a long series of moans so delicious, he felt it all the way down his cock to his balls. He grabbed Steve’s ass and pulled him closer, trapping their straining cocks against each other. Still in their clothes, they were thrusting against each other enthusiastically, chasing friction and release. 

“Oh, fuck, Steve, fuck,” Bucky groaned against his skin. “Fuck, do that again,” he demanded after Steve had thrust hard and fast against him. “Keep doing it, baby.”

Steve crowded him against the wall, panting and moaning as he held Bucky’s shoulders against the wall, and pushed his thigh hard between Bucky’s legs, pressing his dick against Buck’s and thrust hard again. “Fuck. Fuck, like that, baby.”

Bucky could feel the hard thickness of Steve’s cock, barely restrained by his jeans, jamming up against his own dick in the most delicious way, prodding it with each thrust until he felt the heat of orgasm curling down his spine, tightening his balls, and flooding his system with endorphins as he pulsed, filling his pants with a load of cum unlike anything he’d ever shot. Huh. A fully dressed Steve Rogers fucking against his crotch was more effective than all the porn he could order on Stark’s fancy systems. He could feel Steve tightening his hold on his shoulders, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck as his own thrusts faltered, and he pressed harder against Bucky’s groin, trembling mightily as his own release hit.

They clung to each other, propping each other up, hands absently roaming, breaths coming hard and fast as their lips slid sloppily over each other.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, hands clumsily reaching for Steve’s cheek, Steve’s hair. His fingers slid through the short strands, tightened, drew his face closer, pressed their lips together with more precision as he came back to himself. “Fuck, I love you.”

As declarations of love go, it was inelegant and ham-fisted, but it was sincere and heartfelt, and it would have to do. Bucky felt a moment of unreasoning panic, until he remembered what Steve had said on more than one occasion when Bucky’s watched him. And Steve immediately let Bucky know how he felt in the here and now. 

Steve’s mouth closed over his, tongue sliding deliciously against his, fluttering, tasting, stroking. “I love you, too, Buck. Always loved you. ‘ll always love you,” Steve whispered against his lips. 

Bucky’s hand stroked the nape of Steve’s neck, petting his hair and massaging the pads of his fingers over the soft, warm skin. He’d never felt anything so comforting, so homey, as the feel of Steve Rogers’s skin burning hot under his fingertips. He had a flash of memory, of cool skin, chilled and clammy, trying to keep him warm _just another night, just another day, Lord, that’s all I ask_ … But Steve here and now was warm, and vibrant and so very much alive. He wanted to feel more.

He wanted to _feel_ Steve.

His prosthetic hand drifted down to Steve’s crotch, and the swollen flesh contained behind his zipper. Whether he was still hard, or getting hard again, Bucky didn’t care. He needed to touch him, needed to feel the weight of him, the length and breadth of him, in his hand.   
  


But he didn’t want to touch Steve’s cock with his metal hand. Groaning, he pulled his flesh hand away from the back of his neck, where it pressed Steve’s mouth against his, but the magnetism that pulled them together held them together as his flesh hand skimmed across Steve’s chest, thumbed against a nipple through Steve’s shirt, and finally came to rest curled against the swell of Steve’s groin. 

The little whimper in the back of Steve’s throat made him smile into the kiss, turning his head lazily to taste Steve from another angle. 

Steve drew back slightly, resting his forehead against Bucky’s as he breathed him in. “Fuck,” he whispered, ghosting his lips across Bucky’s. “We’re still in the elevator lobby.”

“Kinda hard to move when I can’t keep my hands offa ya,” Bucky whispered back, pressing back into the kiss, open-mouthed and full of tongue, his knuckles grazing gently over Steve’s all-too-clothed cock, definitely firming up with interest as his knuckles slid up and down with a gentle pressure. “If all’s we’re gonna do is cum in our pants like teenagers, we coulda been doin’ this years ago,” Bucky snickered.

“I woulda,” Steve breathed reverently. “God fuckin’ dammit, I woulda,” he added with greater fervor. “Ya gotta know, Buck – it’s always been you.”

Bucky ducked his head and suckled at the hinge of Steve’s jaw. “Punk,” he whispered against his skin. “Fuck,” he added, lifting his head to look into Steve’s eyes, clear, present. Loving. “I been pretty stupid, huh?”

Steve’s fingers slid across his neck to nudge their faces closer together, foreheads touching. His thumb traced an invisible line along Bucky’s jaw, across his lower lip. “Not stupid. Scared. I got you. We’re here now. I ain’t lettin’ go. Not ever.” 

Bucky’s hand stilled in stroking Steve’s crotch, a breath punched out of him by the simple sincerity of the man staring into his soul. His own cock was definitely firm, definitely interested, and definitely twitching impatiently inside his sticky shorts.

“Me, neither,” Bucky replied in a small voice humbled by the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

He wasn’t a good man, he wasn’t a godly man. He never had been. And yet God had seen fit to give him Steve Rogers as his reward. If that ain’t enough to send a fella to church, he didn’t know what was.

“And we’re still _here_ ,” Steve commented with a giggle that sounded just shy of hysterical. “Jarvis, are you recording?” Steve asked in a slightly louder voice, turning his face to nuzzle into Bucky’s neck, nose brushing against the hair at his temple as he nibbled on Bucky’s ear, sucking it into his mouth and running the tip of his tongue over the bruised flesh.

“Yes, Captain, per my parameters, I am maintaining a security log of all activities in a public space.”

“Somebody could be _watchin’_ ,” Bucky said breathlessly, and he’d be lying if he claimed that didn’t make him chub up a little faster. So, he liked to be seen, too.

“This isn’t a public act,” Steve groaned, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck and nipping at the flesh under his jaw and sucking it into his mouth. He ran the flat of his tongue over the spot a moment later, and added, “Adjustment to your parameters. When Sergeant Barnes and I are being intimate in a public space, there is no need for security records.”

“Wait, no, I –“ Bucky cut himself off, frowning.

Steve lifted his head at that. “What is it?” he asked, his glazed eyes looking directly into Bucky’s.

“I, um, I’d like to keep it. For private viewing.”

“You … you want to keep it?”

“I like to watch,” Bucky breathed, eyes glazed with desire.

Steve stared at him for a breathless moment, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. His pupils darkened as his mouth snapped shut with a quiet huff.

“ _Oh_.”

“I like to watch _you_. Watching us _together_ … I, uh –“

“ _Yeah_. Yeah, I, uh … Jarvis, can you shunt the recording to a secure location accessible only to me and Sergeant Barnes?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Then do it. Record for our eyes only. Keep recording.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Then they were lazily kissing again, still in the elevator lobby, knowing that Jarvis was recording them, knowing that this was okay, more than okay. Bucky ghosted his knuckles over Steve’s groin, his hardnes, until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and he had to have flesh on Steve’s cock. He stopped stroking and put both hands on Steve’s waistband, thumbs resting on the buckle of his leather belt. Staring into Steve’s eyes, he wordlessly sought consent, and Steve nodded eagerly, his eyes dropping to Bucky’s hands as his tongue slid across his lower lip, betraying his hunger. Bucky leaned across the tiny space dividing them, and pressed his lips against Steve’s again, open-mouthed and wet, tongues sliding sensuously over and around each other as Steve’s hand strayed to the back of Bucky’s neck, and pressed there, holding Bucky in place. There was nowhere else that Bucky wanted to be, and he growled his approval.

He used both hands to quickly unfasten Steve’s belt, thumb open the button, and slide the zipper down. His flesh hand was trembling ever so slightly as he reached in, slid his underwear away, and curled his fingers around the hot, thick, hard shaft of Steve’s dick. Hot, thick, hard, _sticky_ shaft. He maneuvered his hand to slide through Steve’s cum, shifting the foreskin back and forth, exposing the head to squeeze out another dollop of cum. He coated the length of Steve as he wound his hand around and stroked slowly, pulling a moan out of Steve that went right to his lizard brain with a vengeance. Then he pulled Steve out of his boxers, pumped him a couple of times, and then pulled his hand away, breaking from the kiss to stare at his hand covered in cooled jizz. He lifted his eyes to look at Steve, who frowned slightly, his eyes tracking from Bucky’s face, to Bucky’s hand, to his own dick hanging out of his pants. 

Staring into Steve’s eyes once more, Bucky licked his fingers and palm clean, tongue flicking between his fingers, flattening up the length of them, lips closing on the tips to suck gently. Steve stared at him with an unreadable expression, and then suddenly his pupils were eclipsed and he was devouring Bucky, kissing him deeply, filthily, thoroughly. Suddenly he was demanding that Bucky get his clothes off _now_. There was a click, and the door to Steve’s apartment opened, and without commenting on Jarvis’s helpful manipulation, they fell into the apartment, stripping as they went, still keeping their lips pressed together as much as they could. 

Steve broke away for a breath and hissed, “Shower,” and then they tripped and stumbled their way to the bathroom where they tumbled into the massive shower, kicking their shoes and pants off as they went. Finally they broke apart so they could strip away the last bits of clothing, and the two of them stood there staring at each other. Naked. Glorious. _Wanting_.

And they could _have_.

_Oh God, they could have!_

_He_. _He_ could have. And Steve wanted him to. Steve wanted _him_. 

The thought made Bucky shake his head in wonder. And then he realized the wonder that stood in front of him, close enough to touch, to feel. His for the taking.

Steve was massive, cut from living stone, every muscle defined and prominent, skin glowing with health, but with a fire the same as the small, thin, alabaster boy for whom Buck would have sacrificed his soul to keep one more winter’s night.

His cock thrust forward, making Bucky think of young Steve, chin jutting forward as he took on the world, one bully, one cause, one righteous blow at a time. It was a beautiful cock, uncut with a slight curve where the foreskin bunched just under the head, his balls hanging heavy between those sculpted, golden legs of his, a darker patch of tawny hair framing the base of his dick and reaching up his treasure trail.

Buck had never thought of a man’s dick as beautiful, but as he stared at what Steve had to offer, he thought he could. For him, this man who inspired feelings and desires in him like no one else he’d ever known. Desires, and yet such a comforting sense of home and safety.

_This is where I belong,_ he realized. _Right here. Right now._

Bucky wasn’t the only one staring enraptured, drinking in the sight of the other, lust building with each passing moment. Steve’s eyes raked over Bucky, and Bucky could swear he felt them resting on the gnarled join of his flesh and metal shoulder, down the shining expanse of the finely tuned plates (he did, after all, allow Stark Lite to do maintenance on the arm), across the expanse of skin and muscle, finally dropping down to rest on the dusky head of his cock, rising proudly, curving slightly toward his stomach, his balls high and tight with arousal. Steve licked his lips, reached over Bucky’s shoulder to turn on the shower and its many jets, and dropped to his knees, staring at Bucky’s dick like it was the face of God.

Just the sensation of Steve’s breath puffing hot and wet over the head was enough for Bucky to take an involuntary step back, his head knocking back against the tiled wall as a groan ripped out of him. Water sluiced over and around him, erupting out of so many places around them, if Bucky had any rational thought at that moment, he knew he wouldn’t be able to count them all. They felt good. But not as good as simply having Steve breathe against his skin.

Steve looked up at him then, his brow furrowed over those amazing blue eyes. His hand tentatively rested on his hip bone, thumb tracing a soothing circle there against the soft skin. Bucky’s attention narrowed down to that single point of contact, the laser focus of a sniper drawn down to the careful way the whorls of Steve’s thumb skimmed over his flesh. Gentle, calming, and yet charged and wildly erotic. Steve’s other hand hovered over his cock, waiting, just as his face radiating hope and trust and … want. 

Steve _wanted_ Bucky.

Bucky _wanted_ Steve.

“This okay, Buck? You with me?” Steve asked softly, his voice steady even as his face betrayed worry that Bucky might not grant permission, or worse, be checked out from too much stimulation.

_Oh, babydoll_ , Bucky thought. _You ain’t seen nothin’ yet._

“Ye-yeah,” Bucky agreed, letting his flesh fingers slide through Steve’s hair, his prosthetic hand sort of hovering uselessly at his side. Steve’s eyes tracked toward the hand and he reached over and twined his fingers with Bucky’s metal ones, brought the hand to his lips, and kissed the metal knuckles. 

“All of you,” Steve said suddenly, holding their joined hands against his cheek. “I love all of you. Want to _feel_ all of you.” And suddenly Steve surged back to his feet, his fingers still laced with Bucky’s prosthetic hand, and they were kissing, not lazily, not sweetly. Urgently, passionately. Filthily. That tentative hand on Bucky’s hip suddenly dug in, and Bucky found himself breathless with the sensation of Steve’s hard, wet cock sliding against his own. 

Oh yeah. Shower. Water. _Fuck._ Bodies sliding. Steve’s cock pressing against his, setting fire to his skin, a fire that streaming water couldn’t douse. The world could drown, and nothing would ever quench this fire again.

Oh, God. He’d never felt anything like this, the pulse beating through Steve’s flesh, the heat, the hardness, the hunger as they suddenly found themselves thrusting against each other again.

Bucky wanted flesh on flesh. Steve’s flesh on his flesh. His flesh on Steve’s flesh. His hand – his flesh hand – slid down between the water sheeting over their naked bodies, wrapped around the thrusting, trembling flesh of their cocks, and stroked, pressing their two impossibly hard dicks together and creating a ring of friction that threatened to send him over the edge again. 

And Steve’s free hand dropped down to join Bucky’s increasing the pressure, increasing the contact, increasing the _everything_.

Their mouths slid sloppily against each other, tongues tangling as their hips pistoned against each other. Steve still held Bucky’s metal hand in his, pressed against the tile wall of the shower enclosure. Water jetted out of the walls around them, cascading down from the ceiling, running into their mouths, down their skin, a hundred little massages urging them on.

Warmth spread within him, around him, against him, the hot water, the heat of Steve’s body, the fire in his own belly as orgasm spun up through his senses and boiled up through his brain. The world exploded in a wash of color that burned to white behind his eyes as his release slammed into him with deafening force.

As he lost all sense of self, giving over to the orgasm that exploded through him, his last thought was, “Two.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their patience and good wishes over the past 18 months. I'm finally in the headspace I need to be in order to tackle ending this story. I had always, always, always planned to write the most smut-ridden work of my life, and I had never intended to hold anything hostage. It's just that when my Mom died, in addition to all the stuff that goes with that, I was just overwhelmed with what I'd committed to do in the final chapter of this story. It was just too much.
> 
> And guess what? It kinda still is. This is only the first part of the Steve and Bucky pornathon that is the conclusion to I, Barnes. And I am finally in that place where I am having the time of my life. No longer overwhelmed, no longer frightened, no longer running. I feel an even greater kinship to the Bucky of this tale, because both of us are ready for what comes next. And yes, there will be a couple more chapters of, you guessed it, smut. Hopefully with humor. And love. And maybe a little bit of angst. Because hey, this is Steve and Bucky we're talking about.
> 
> You know what to do - please let me know what you think! Your comments sustain me, and you have no idea how true that has been in the past 18 months. But I'd love to hear what you think of this first part of the pornathon. And if you feel like posting some suggestions, I wouldn't mind that either. I currently have the remainder mapped out, but that doesn't mean there isn't room for some spontaneity. 
> 
> Love you all. You have no idea.


	10. I Know Steve Loves Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt this pornathon for some angst, some words, and some home truths about just what Steve and Bucky really mean to each other. What they've always meant to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as usual with Bucky, this chapter caught me off guard. I'd planned a smutfest, and he and Steve decided it was time to talk about _feelings_. So ... they do.

He felt … _floaty_.

Floaty and warm and embraced. Protected. Safe.

Like in the womb.

Or a particularly fluffy cloud.

Only … warmer. Blood heat, only hotter.

His cloud rose and fell. Rose and fell.

And its heart beat against the shell of his ear, the ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump signaling a healthy heart not plagued by arrhythmia. A heart that would live through the winter. A heart that beat strong and true.

And fingers, gentle yet firm, stroking through his scalp, sifting through the long strands, again and again, lulling him, helping him float a little higher.

And an arm wrapped around his flesh shoulder, a hand resting on his arm, softly laying claim as the fingers idly ran up and down his arm.

A torso resting beneath his cheek, his flesh arm draped possessively around its middle.

Huh.

It wasn’t a dream. 

Steve. This was Steve. And they were what? In his bed? It felt familiar. Familiar and right.

It smelled right. It smelled of Steve, of home.

He snuggled a little closer, rubbing his cheek against the chest beneath his cheek, the nub of a nipple brushing at his nose. A little turn, a little stretch, and his tongue flicked over that nipple, earning him surprised gasp and a low-throated chuckle.

“Welcome back,” Steve said in a voice that immediately went to his dick. Which, considering the magnitude of the orgasm he’d just had, was really pretty fuckin’ amazing. He didn’t think he could get it up for a week, and just the sound of Steve’s voice was enough to have him chubbing up like a champ.

“Hmmm,” Bucky agreed, breathing across the damp skin of that nipple before licking it into his mouth and sucking gently.

He found he loved the feel of the little bud of flesh firming up against his tongue as he swirled it around, tasting Steve’s skin, breathing him in deep as he shifted against Steve’s toned and gloriously naked body to half lay on him as he gained better purchase to really suck on that sweet little nipple.

The fact that he was lips to toes touching the naked glory of Steve’s body wasn’t a concern at all. It was a goddamned miracle, is what it was.

And damn, did it feel good. For a muscle-y guy, Steve had surprisingly soft skin, and all those muscles looked like they’d be hard, angular, but they were padded, almost plush, not soft, but not sharp either. Firm, yet plaint. Giving. Warm. He felt warmer, safer, than he could ever remember feeling. 

And yeah, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the naked. He could feel Steve’s answering firmness. Sitting up and taking notice.

He smiled and suckled a little harder, a little more pressure in his lips, a little more swish of his tongue.

That strong, steady breath without a hint of asthma stuttered and held, then let go in a sigh.

Bucky’s smile grew, and he concentrated all his attention to that little bud of flesh under his lips.

The fingers that gently carded through his hair tightened, pressed into the back of Bucky’s neck to hold him there, against Steve’s chest, as he suckled and worshipped. He trailed the tip of his finger across the plane of Steve’s chest, up the rise of one pec, down the swale of the center of his chest, up the other side and pec, his fingers brushing against the other nipple. 

The indrawn breath at that was so big, it nearly dislodged Bucky from where he sucked. The moan that followed went straight to his dick, nestled comfortably against the dip of Steve’s hip. Buck cracked open an eye and side-eyed Steve’s dick, rising steadily in an arc over his stomach where a bead of pre-cum trembled at the slit for a breath, then dripped down onto Steve’s abdomen. The sight made Buck hard. 

He eeled across Steve’s chest to take the other nipple into his mouth, leaving the first, the right one, wet and hard in the cool air, skin pebbling with goosebumps. He shifted his hips so his dick slid against Steve’s and his thighs bracketed Steve’s hips.

Suddenly, he sat up. Drawing his ass so it rested with Steve’s dick pressed against his crack, his own balls resting on the lower part of Steve’s abdomen, his dick standing at attention. Steve whined at the loss of attention to his tits, and opened his eyes to look up adoringly at Bucky.

“Hi there,” he said softly. “You seem to have recovered okay.”

“Guess I have you to thank for that, huh? You could’ve had your way with me – how long was I out?”

“Who’s to say I didn’t, huh? All that gorgeous skin on display, all mine to do with as I will … you kinda scared me, Buck. You passed right out. I cleaned us both up and brought you in here, tried to keep you warm –“

“With your body heat. A blanket mighta been nice.” He rolled his hips experimentally, watching Steve for a reaction. He smirked when Steve’s eyes widened, he gasped a little, and his own hips jerked upward in response to Bucky’s little maneuver. 

“Seems like you’re doin’ a good enough job heatin’ us both up, Buck,” he answered, reaching out to flatten his palms against the strong muscles of Bucky’s thighs, folded at Steve’s hips. He ran his hands up and down Bucky’s thighs with a gentle pressure. It felt good, grounding. Not really sexual, just … touching base, connecting. Bucky smiled at him, and leaned over to brush his lips softly across Steve’s.

“Got a problem with that?” he whispered into Steve’s lips. “You ready for round three?”

Steve’s hands slid up the sides of Bucky’s torso, up his back, and over the wings of his shoulders to pull him closer, haul him into a kiss that spoke of promises and plans. “Ready for anything you wanna give me” Steve whispered back. “Still can’t believe I get to have this,” he added, his hands travelling up across Bucky’s shoulders and up his neck to cup the back of his head and thread fingers through his hair. Steve lifted his chin so he could nip at Bucky’s lower lip, a sharp little bite that he followed up by kissing, then licking, then sucking the flesh into his mouth before he opened into a wet and tongue-filled kiss.

Bucky’s hands rested on Steve’s shoulders, their chests touching, as he stretched up to kiss Steve again and again. He liked kissing. He remembered that he – the he-that-was back in the 1940s – liked kissing. Liked the feel of plump lips sliding across his, tongues touching, tangling, even the waxy taste of lipstick smeared across his lips, caught on his teeth, leaving trails down his neck. He-that-was liked the feel of soft skin, and rounded flesh, breathed in the heady scents of dime store au de cologne and homemade rosewater. Wouldn’t say no to a glimpse of milky skin as the garter was let go and the stocking rolled down. As the skirt inched up and the panties dropped.

He-that-was loved women in all their shapes and sizes, all ethnicities and ages. 

But he-that-was had harbored a secret, a perverse fascination. A broken fantasy he’d planned to take to his grave.

His grave had failed to hold him down, and he-that-was had risen to become him, the Bucky of today, caught in the warm embrace of Steve Rogers, naked, kissing, reveling in everything this mad future had to offer.

He-that-was was very happy today as Bucky rotated his hips slightly to see how it would feel, balls slipping across the smooth expanse of Steve’s stomach, dick trapped between their bodies, Steve’s sliding hot and hard against his ass cheeks.

He-that-is smiled and turned his face to trail kisses down Steve’s ear, along his jaw, and down his neck, sucking a little bruise into the curve of his clavicle, rubbing his scruff against the tender underside of Steve’s jaw. His hips moved languidly, gently, testing the sensations of a shift to the left, a slide back and forth, rotating, grinding down a little harder to see what kind of response he could goad out of Steve, what he liked, what really turned him on. He collected each and every gasp, moan, and groan, tucked them in his heart like a treasure held against tomorrow.

Because this couldn’t possibly last, could it? He had to store up every good thing about this night while he could, because surely Steve would see reason in the daylight tomorrow.

Right?

“I’m so happy I waited to do this with you,” Steve breathed against his ear as he nuzzled and licked and sucked his way from Bucky’s ear to his shoulder and back again.

Bucky stilled, frowning where his face was buried in Steve’s hair. “Waited?” he whispered softly. “Are you tellin’ me –“

“I waited. It wasn’t so hard, really,” Steve explained just as softly, his hands roaming over Bucky’s back, up his neck and into his hair, down his sides, and hovered at his hips before making the trip again.

“Waited, how?” Buck asked, lifting himself away from the heat of Steve’s embrace. Steve whined a little, letting his hands fall back to Bucky’s thighs. 

“Waited. You know – _waited_ ,” he elaborated with a shrug and a pointed look, his hands automatically reaching for Bucky to pull him back down. Bucky took those hands in his own and twined their fingers together.

“Are you tellin’ me you’re a virgin, Rogers?” Bucky couldn’t believe that this incredible, gorgeous, funny, passionate man had never been … nah, it couldn’t be.

“Wasn’t much chance before the war,” Steve shrugged, twisting his hands so he could cradle Bucky’s fingers in the palm of each hand. “Standin’ next to you, I was invisible. Nobody saw me. ‘Cept you, my best friend. Then after, all’s anybody saw was Captain America. Nobody saw me then, either. ‘Specially once you … you fell. ‘N after the ice … well, might as well been a kewpie doll for all anyone noticed me, the _real_ me,” he added with a sigh. More and more Brooklyn seeped into his voice the longer he spoke. ‘’S’always the shield, y’know? Or the muscles. Or the image. Just … just not me that’s inside.” He shook his head, smiling brightly, drawing Bucky’s hands to his lips where he kissed each one reverently. “C’mon, Buck, it’s all done. We’re here, we’re together. Ain’t we? Ain’t we together?” his expression seemed to crumple in on itself as Bucky’s silence dragged on.

Bucky sat there, balanced on Steve’s pelvis, his dick tucked between his cheeks, and his own dick saluting this beautiful man. He stared, stunned. “How can you settle for _me_?” he finally rasped out, shaking his head.

Steve shifted suddenly, wrenching himself into a sitting position and nearly knocking Bucky onto his ass on the floor. That fire that had kept Bucky warm all those years ago, that had stoked the flames of his shameful love, it burned bright and sharp in Steve’s eyes now. His face twisted in anger as he grabbed Bucky roughly by the shoulders.

“Ain’t settlin’,” he barked, the old Brooklyn twang in full voice now, like the years in between just sloughed away, leaving them glaring at each other over some stupid tiff back in their fourth floor walkup. Bucky had a jarring sense of coming home as he watched the spitfire ignite in that big body. It was all he could do to hold back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

“Fuck you, Barnes, thinkin’ I’m makin’ do with you ‘til somethin’ better comes along! You know me – you _know_ I ain’t that kind of asshole. I been waitin’ my whole life for you to notice me this way, _you_ , just about the only person to ever really see me. And now you do, you think I’m settlin’? I hit the fuckin’ jackpot, Buck. I never thought I could have this, have you. I just figured I’d do without if I couldn’t have the one person I loved most in the world. Ever. ‘S’always been you – it felt like I was cheatin’ when I was with Peggy, even though I loved her too. Love her still. But you … you’re a part of me like nobody else, you dumbass fuckin’ jerk. I ain’t whole without you, Buck. I ain’t been whole for a fuckin’ long time. So no, I ain’t settlin’. I’m gonna be selfish and I’m gonna take everything I can get with you. So if you’re not ready to be with me, tell me now.” 

Steve was breathless by the end, even though his lungs were beyond healthy, and his capacity was off the charts. He glared at Bucky, challenging him to fight or flight.

And didn’t that just get Bucky’s blood a-boiling? With sudden clarity, he realized that all the soft curves and dimpled smiles and bouncing curls had ever done was distract him. Distract him from the depth and breadth and sheer enormity of what he felt for this man.

And when he’d thought of them together, in the privacy of his hidden shame, he’d always been the one to take, to fill Steve with his cock, fuck him into bliss and hold him as he shuddered through the orgasm Bucky gave him.

But he knew what it felt like to be surrounded by someone, to be inside, to feel them come apart around him. And he knew then that that was something he could give to Steve. Something he wanted to give to Steve. Something he needed to give Steve to say just how much he wanted him.

He glanced down at his hands captured in Steve’s, felt the pressure of Steve’s eyes tracking his, the unhappy downturn of his lips as Bucky withdrew his hands and held them still for a moment while he stared into Steve’s frowning, flushed face.

“Buck?”

Then he lifted his flesh hand and laid it against Steve’s cheek, feeling the soft hairs and softer skin, the warmth and the trembling as Steve closed his eyes and pressed into his palm. At this range, Bucky could see the beginnings of tears sparkling in Steve’s impossibly long lashes, and he reached out with his prosthetic hand, cupping the other cheek and raising Steve’s face so his eyes would look into his own. Steve opened his eyes, and waited, brow furrowed, eyes fearful. Bucky leaned forward and kissed Steve’s forehead, resting his lips there for a long moment as Steve sucked in a sob. Then he trailed kisses across Steve’s face, against his eyelids, on his cheeks, and finally his mouth. Sweet, loving, full of promise.

“I want you to fuck me,” he whispered against those lips. “And I wanna spend every day with you and every night with you, and every minute with you that I can. ‘Til the end of the line, past the last station, and out to fuckin’ Rye and beyond. It’s always been you, punk. I only ever loved one person in my life, and it’s you, you self-sacrificin’ shithead. Now, are you up for it? ‘Cos I wanna scream your name when you make me cum, baby. I want everyone in this fuckin’ city to know who I belong to, now and forever.” 

And it was inexpert, but it was heartfelt. And maybe a little more lube would have been better, but there was no doubt that Bucky could feel every thrust, every move that Steve made as he worshipped his body with his cock. And it was messy, ropes of cum painting Bucky’s chest as he shot his load bellowing Steve’s name, and dribbles and rivulets slipping out of his ass after Steve had cum screaming his name. 

But as Bucky cuddled against Steve’s side again, wiped clean with a hastily acquired warm wet towel, and wrapped in Steve’s arms _and_ a blanket, he smiled against Steve’s warm skin, gently petting him as he drifted off, thinking, “Three.” And they were just getting started.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of explicit smut in this chapter. It just didn't feel right to go into massive detail after the "conversation." I promise there will be more smut in the next chapter. And please, do let me know what you might like to see - not promising I'll write it, but I am curious. And as always, comments are much, much appreciated!


	11. I Love How You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys discover new things about themselves and each other. And Steve learns a new skill and finds that he enjoys it every bit as much as Bucky does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So have a little smut. A little angst. A little joy. Have a little life.
> 
> **30Apr16** \- Made a couple of quick edits, a correction, and some new text starting right after, "He finally realized he was in the wrong position to really get into it, so he pulled off with a pop, earning an actual fucking whine from Buck."

Bucky woke again to the sensation of pressure against his bladder. Ugh. And he was having such a nice dream. He’d dreamed he’d had sex with Steve, Steve’s cock driving hard into him, his whole body burning with the stretch and the heat of Steve as he held on with every bit of his own formidable strength.

He shifted against the pressure starting to build in his groin, only to realize that the burn in his ass was very real, very present, and very much a deeply pleasant reminder of a reality he’d never imagined could be his.

He shifted slightly, cataloguing the warm – no, incendiary – body curled against him. Steve was the match that ignited his flame – cliché maybe, but oh so true. He opened his eyes to look at – drink in – the man who’d professed his love and fucked him so enthusiastically into next week. He was the love of Bucky’s life.

He was also snoring like a freight train, sprawled on his back with his arms flung wide, his mouth hanging open and an oh-so-attractive trail of drool hanging from it. His Captain America hair was fuck-messed, sticking up all over his head, a shock of golden hair hanging over his forehead, dusting his eyebrows.

Bucky felt like his whole body was going to burst into flames, he loved this idiot so much.

And he really, really, _really_ needed to pee.

With every bit of stealth learned as the Winter Soldier, Bucky slid out of bed without disturbing Sleeping Ugly, and crept toward the bathroom down the hall, skipping the en suite in favor of privacy and quiet, praying his muscle control held.

As he slipped into the main bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind himself and finally reached his goal, sighing as he relieved himself. 

Then he started to giggle.

What did he need privacy for from the man who had his fingers and his dick shoved up his ass only a short while ago? Whose jizz he’d licked off his fingers, and still painted the insides of his ass.

Which, yeah, a shower might be a good idea. In case Steve had any other good ideas. Because Bucky was 110% on board with anything Steve might like to try.

As he turned to the wash basin to wash his hands – and wasn’t hot and cold water in the apartment a wonderful thing? – he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror over the sink.

He barely recognized himself.

He knew only an hour or two had passed since their last little adventure, but the face looking back at him now was not the face he’d seen in the mirror when last he’d looked. And it bore no resemblance to the emotionless façade of the Asset. 

Gone was the tight coil of wariness and concern, pinching his expression and creasing his brow, drawing the corners of his mouth down and bracketing it with deep furrows. 

Instead, the face staring back at him in wonder looked like that laughing young man in the newsreels, the lines on his face smile and laughter lines, the downward draw of his face lightened and elevated into … what?

Could this be what happiness looked like?

Could this be the face of Bucky Barnes?

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and before he knew it, he was grinning at his reflection, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. Not a hysterical laugh, but a laugh of pure joy.

He could have this. He really could have this!

&&&

Steve woke slowly, sighed into a boneless stretch that almost slid back into unconsciousness before he realized he could hear someone moving in his bedroom. The sounds were faint and held in check, restrained like the culprit was trying to mask their presence, and that more than anything triggered alarms all along his nervous system. Situational awareness kicked in immediately, and he was instantly alert. 

He was lying on his back, his mouth hanging open – Attractive, Rogers, really attractive. Get yourself ambushed by Hydra while you’re catchin’ fuckin’ flies! But not for the first time, he thanked whatever genetic soup had gifted him with eyelashes any woman – and many men – would kill for, because he could crack open his eyes without appearing to be awake, his eyes hidden behind the sweep and length of his lashes. It gave him a tactical advantage, and he took it grimly.

Only to find that the intruder he’d been about to jump was Bucky, dressed only in low-slung sleep pants – his – pawing through the drawer of the bedside table. The drawer where Stark stocked the _toys_.

Okay, so maybe there would be jumping on in his future, but it would end very, very differently.

He smiled faintly to himself, and allowed himself another languid stretch, rolling over onto the side of the bed where Buck had lain, the sheets rumpled but cool. As he settled his head onto Buck’s pillow, breathing his scent in deep and holding it so it would simply become a part of him, nuzzling softly into the softness.

He couldn’t remember waking up like this ever before in his life. So … content. So filled with … joy. So … safe.

Did everyone feel like this after making love? Was this normal? Or was this just Steve and Bucky? 

Afterglow. He’d heard the word, but he’d never really understood what it meant, how it felt. 

Now, he knew. And he felt so overwhelmed with love for the guy who was pawing through his stuff – just what the fuck was he looking for?

Only one way to find out. Steve reached out and clapped a hand on Bucky’s flesh shoulder, earning him a manly yelp and a vertical takeoff and landing worthy of Tony’s latest Quinjet design.

“Shit, Steve! Give a guy some warning why don’t you?” Bucky complained, dropping the dildo he’d been ogling and glaring at Steve. 

Steve dragged his ass into a seated position on the bed, back resting against the headboard. He nodded toward the drawer. “Whatcha lookin’ for, soldier? Seems like you’re diggin’ t’China there.”

The smirk that met his question was 1000 per cent Barnes, a smirk he hadn’t seen since Buck’s last night before he shipped out. 

It punched the breath right out of him.

Buck’s brow creased momentarily as he caught Steve’s expression, but he shook it off and chuckled. “Checkin’ out your stash – wanted to see if you’d gotten anything new.”

“Yeah? Anything catch your fancy?” Steve asked, recovering himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to shuffle closer to where Bucky knelt on the floor, hands in the drawer.

“Yeah, where’s your suction thing? Or do I needa get mine?”

And wow. If Steve didn’t suddenly have to pee so bad, that would have been a great beginning. 

But hey, he was Captain America. He could hold it for a minute to two, for fuck’s sake.

“Like getting’ your dick sucked, huh?” he parleyed.

“Who doesn’t?” Buck shrugged, picking up another toy and frowning at it like it had personally offended him. “Ever figure out what this is for?”

“Hmm. Yeah. Something called ‘pony play’. Not my thing.”

“Pony play. What, like you wear this –“ he waggled the butt plug with the silken tail hanging off of it, “and I take you for a ride?”

“According to the internet, there’s role play. And maybe bits,” he chomped down on an invisible bit to demonstrate. “Could be a saddle, or a carriage. Lots of people are into it, there’s a whole big thing. But,” Steve shrugged. “Like I said, not my thing.”

Bucky gave it another glance, then dropped it in the trash can. “Good to know. It is the role play or the bits, or what?”

Steve considered for a moment, trying to ignore the insistent pressure on his bladder. “Don’t think I want to be an animal, I guess. And yeah, the bits and saddles and stuff don’t do anything for me. Kinda like the butt plug though, but not that one – the tail gets itchy after a while, and it’s not like you wear it under your jeans.”

Bucky turned and gaped at him, his mouth working silently as his face reddened to a pretty dusky hue. “You … you’ve worn a butt plug before?” he practically squeaked.

“Yeah. Once or twice. At least,” Steve added with a shrug of his own, but inwardly he was cackling. The interest on Buck’s face was clear as day, and wasn’t that something to file away for later? “Gotta hit the head, be right back.”

“Geeze, Steve, for a virgin, you’re sure one surprise after another,” Bucky muttered as he went back to rummaging.

“Virgin no more, asshole!” Steve tossed over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom and paused with his hand on the doorknob. What was the protocol now? Close the door, leave the door open? What were they to each other? Boyfriends? Lovers? Friends with benefits – and wasn’t that the stupidest term he’d heard in this new century, right up there with half the shit he heard in primetime. He glanced out into the bedroom where Buck was hunched over his toy drawer and shook his head. He wouldn’t want to listen to someone take a leak. Closed door it was.

&&&

Steve came back into the bedroom a while later, bladder relieved, teeth brushed, hands, face, and other areas of interest freshly washed (there were things that Steve had read about and seen in porn that he was hoping they could try, at some point, maybe … a guy has to be ready for opportunities, after all). Buck was lying back in bed, a pair of Steve’s own sleep pants riding low on his hips, his chest naked, hair still damp from the shower, and a fine sheen of moisture clinging to his neck and shoulders. In his hands was the pump, and he tossed it idly back and forth. At the sight of Steve coming out of the bathroom, his expression turned feral.

“You wanna play with that? Or you want the real thing?” Steve challenged with a grunt, stopping to lean against the door jamb and just drink in the sight of Buck lying in his bed like he belonged there. He did belong there, and Steve felt a thrill sing through his body at the thought. The darkening in Bucky’s eyes at Steve’s unspoken offer told Steve all he needed to know. 

With a smirk of his own, and a swagger he may or may not have practiced in front of the mirror once or twice, Steve crossed the room to the bed until he reached the foot, and then he climbed atop it, crawling up the bed and over Buck’s body until he hovered over Bucky, resting on his fists on either side of Bucky’s shoulders, his knees bracking Bucky’s hips.

Buck looked up at him, tongue sliding across his lower lip before he bit it and sucked it into his mouth. “You offerin’ what I think you’re offerin’?” Bucky asked, his voice low and husky.

Steve felt a delicious shiver move through his body at the sound of Bucky’s voice. He needed to bottle that voice, get it on his phone as his ringtone, have it so he could play it back when he was alone in the dark. _Jesus_.

“If you think I’m offerin’ to such your dick, then yeah,” Steve agreed, dropping down like he was doing a pushup to brush his lips over Bucky’s, and then swept back up and held his position over Bucky. “That okay with you?” he asked, half playful, half serious.

“More’n okay, yeah,” Bucky agreed breathlessly, his irises completely dark now. His flesh hand reached up to caress Steve’s cheek. “Y’don’t gotta ask, baby. You can do anything you want with me.”

“No,” Steve answered, fully serious now. “No, I’ll always ask. I need to hear you say yes, Buck. Always.”

“The answer is always yes, whatever you’re askin’,” Bucky said softly, his thumb stroking along Steve’s jawline. He arched up to capture Steve’s lips with his own, a breathtaking kiss that deepened into a make-out session that lasted several minutes before they paused, foreheads resting together. “What were we sayin’?” Bucky whispered with a smirk.

“We were sayin’ I’m gonna suck your dick. Been dreamin’ about this for a while. You tell me what you like, okay? You tell me if I’m not doing it right,” he added, shifting back so he could reach down and slowly caress Bucky’s dick through the thin cotton of the sleep pants. It was already half hard, thick and heavy and everything Steve had hoped it would be. He’d held it earlier, stroked it to orgasm, and he was confident he could take it in his mouth, maybe even take it all with practice. And he planned to get so much practice in. He was determined to make it good for Bucky, and become the best cocksucker he possibly could be.

He couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from him when he had that thought. Wouldn’t Fox News just love that? America’s icon loves sucking former Russian assassin’s dick, news at 11. Yeah, he had it bad. He hadn’t even tasted it yet, hadn’t held it in his mouth yet, and he was already addicted. Addicted because it was Bucky, and he’d do anything to make him feel good, and feel good about himself.

Reverently, he undid the drawstring, and pulled the pants down far enough to reveal the glistening head of Bucky’s cock, dusky rose in color, the swollen flesh of his a not-quite-angry red as it curved toward his stomach. He smoothed his hands over Bucky’s thighs, once, twice, a third time, then he placed his palms on the inside of each thigh, pushing lightly. Bucky got the message and spread his legs enough so Steve could lower himself along Bucky’s left side, his left thigh thrown over Buck’s right, space enough so he could get at the treasure between Bucky’s legs. 

Steve stifled another giggle as he thought of himself as a pearl diver, diving deep to recover the mysteries of the ocean, right there between Bucky’s legs. Instead, he settled himself and reached over to pull Bucky’s dick out of the pants, where he held it steady as he licked up from the root all the way to the tip. The sound of Bucky’s head slamming against the headboard was all the applause he could hope for. He did it again and again, a new spot, a new side each time, until the whole of Bucky’s cock was coated in his saliva. Only then did he start to stroke with his left hand, while he guided the head into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the slit to taste the pre-cum there, humming approval of the taste – a little bitter, a little salty, a little sweet. All Bucky.

“Geeze!” Bucky swore, thudding his head against the headboard again. “Jesus, Steve!”

“Okay?” Steve asked as he licked and kissed his way around the circumference of the bulbous head again.

“Fuck, yeah! Fuck, just keep goin’ like you’re goin’ , baby.”

“Think I can manage that,” Steve murmured as he slid the head into his mouth and started sucking it in earnest, his hand slowly pumping along the shaft. He closed his eyes to focus all his attention on worshiping the mushroom-headed flesh in his mouth, savoring the taste of it, the heat of it, the feel and the weight of it on his tongue. He pressed the flat of his tongue against the divot, the frenulum, and ran his tongue up and down in that spot, earning him a throat moan and a long drawn out, “Fu-u-u-u-uck,” from Bucky. Okay, that was something to add to his growing repertoire. He was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself.

His fist tightened slightly on the shaft so he could see if Bucky liked that better – the hissing, “Yes,” told him it was a keeper, too. 

He finally realized he was in the wrong position to really get into it, so he pulled off with a pop, earning an actual fucking whine from Buck. He frowned then, trying to figure out what was wrong. He practically smacked his forehead at the obvious choice.

“Pants! Off, get ‘em off!” he ordered, tugging at the waistband.

“Eh, you want ‘em off so bad, take ‘em,” Bucky goaded with a smirk as familiar to Steve as air.

“Yeah? Is that how it is, jerk?”

“Shit, yeah, that’s how it is, punk.”

“Geeze, I gotta do all the work, huh?” Steve grumbled good-naturedly, snaring the waistband and yanking it down. “Suck a guy’s dick, and suddenly he thinks he’s fuckin’ in charge,” he added for good measure. With a smack to Bucky’s ass – and he’d have to revisit the sudden heat in his expression from that – he got Buck to lift his hips so he could tug the pants off his ass and down his legs, finally freeing Bucky in all his glory. And glorious it certainly was. Tossing the pants negligently over his shoulder, Steve took a moment to simply stare, taking in the curve of Buck’s dick, the heavy balls cradled below, the strong thighs, the flat belly, the full expanse of skin, flushed and glistening with sweat, the gleam of the metal arm, thrown back to cradle Buck’s head so he could watch Steve with eyes heavy with lust. And as Steve stared his fill, didn’t Buck’s dick do a mighty twitch, lifting up and jerking sideways before settling back in place. Yeah, the feeling was mutual, his own dick said in reply, forgotten and neglected in his own sleep pants, but at that moment, Steve didn’t care. All that mattered was Bucky.

“Like what you see?” Bucky asked, his voice suddenly small. Shy.

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve breathed reverently, his hands reaching out to smooth over the firm muscles of Bucky’s thighs, up his abdomen, and over his pecs and down again. “Never seen anything like it. Eighth wonder of the modern world, you are. Fuckin’ can’t believe I’m lucky enough to see this, to touch this,” he added, gently running a finger up the length of Bucky’s dick, earning him a shiver and a moan. With a feral grin, he moved so he knelt between Bucky’s legs, and lifted each other them over his shoulders so when he dropped down, the tilt of Buck’s pelvis opened up not only his cock and balls, but his ass, too. He licked around the shaft again, getting it nice and wet so the friction felt good and didn’t hurt Bucky – he’d figured out that more lube, more lubrication was a good thing after they fucked earlier. 

Then he settled in to suck at the head again, stroking the shaft with one hand, while his other reached around to fondle Buck’s balls, rolling each one gently in his hand, hefting them, petting over the warm, swelling flesh. And when he let his fingers graze over Bucky’s hole, just touch it gently with the pad of his thumb, he felt triumphant at the sharp intake of breath and the sudden grip in his hair as Buck’s flesh hand clamped on.

So he continued to caress Bucky’s sac, letting his thumb slip gently over his hole, as his other hand continued to pump his cock while he sucked on the head. Then he let his hand drop away, rest it on Bucky’s hip bone to steady him, as he dove down on the cock, swallowing as much as he could of the length and girth of it.

Bucky fucking shouted, slamming his head against the headboard, his fingers on Steve’s scalp digging in and drawing blood.

Steve was surprised to learn that he kind of liked it – the fingers in his hair, the sting of Bucky’s nails, the way he pulled at his hair and strained the roots.

He pulled back, nearly letting the cock drop away from his mouth, but closed his lips on the very top of the tip, just around the slit, and sucked, hard. Then he opened his mouth slightly to draw in more of the head, and sucked some more. Then, sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he went down again, taking a little more of the length into his mouth. He could feel the head heavy on the back of his tongue, back almost far enough to trigger a gag reflex if he still had one. All those years in hospitals as a kid with tubes shoved down his throat might finally pay off. He started bobbing his head more rapidly, taking more and more of Bucky’s cock with each downward plunge. Bucky’s hips started jerking upward, meeting Steve halfway, and he let him, swallowing around him when he thrust deep enough, then bobbed back up to suckle around the head again.

Bucky’s breaths were getting faster, more erratic, punctuated by a series of, “Uh-uh-uhs” and moans as Steve worked him over. Finally, Bucky’s fingers tightened painfully in Steve’s hair as he croaked, “’M gonna cum, oh shit, Steve – I –“

“Come on then, baby. Cum for me,” Steve ordered in a voice barely above a whisper, and suddenly there was a flood of hot bitter tasting fluid on his tongue. He swallowed quickly, then went right back to alternating bobbing his head with sucking the head as more cum pulsed out of the slit and filled his mouth. 

Finally, he’d wrung out every drop, and Bucky’s cock started to soften in his mouth. He eased it out of his mouth, and licked down the side of the shaft, nosing around the balls and drawing one into his mouth. He wasn’t keen on the texture of wiry hair in his mouth, but he loved the sensation of the egg-shaped ball rolling around on his tongue, filling his mouth. Bucky’s hand relaxed in his hair, going from a death grip to a gentle pet. Steve felt it was like a benediction, and smiled as he slid the first testicle from his mouth and moved on to the other. His fingers stroked the underside of the sac, and he sought out the nub of Bucky’s anus to rub gently in a circular motion, massaging it to relax it again.

He let the second ball drop from his mouth and nosed his way up Bucky’s cock again. As he shifted position so he was at the head again, he held it between thumb and forefinger and looked up at Bucky. He was surprised to see the intensity of Bucky’s gaze, the focus and the adoration there as he watched Steve make love to his dick. Steve turned his head to kiss the tip gently. “Wanna go again?”

“That’ll make five,” Bucky whispered, his chest still heaving and his muscles still trembling from his orgasm.

“Five whats?” Steve asked, opening his mouth and flattening his tongue to run the head of Buck’s cock over it.

“Five times you’ve made me cum,” Bucky admitted with a smirk.

“You keepin’ score or somethin’, Buck?” Steve chuckled, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the tip, then letting his tongue run back and forth across the tip, dipping into the slit.

Bucky’s head fell back and he groaned loudly. “Shit, Steve! You sure you never done this before?”

“I mighta practiced on a dildo once or twice. And ice cream cones. I’ve had my tongue in training for a while now,” Steve chuckled and closed his mouth over the head again, sucking gently.

“Fuck, you’re an asshole. And that tongue is fucking talented. Good thing. Got a record to beat,” Bucky struggled to get out as Steve sucked harder, then pulled off with a wet pop.

“A record. For cummin’.”

Bucky lifted his head and speared Steve with his eyes. “Yeah. Wanna help me beat it?”

Steve stopped for a moment and just stared at Bucky, feeling lust curling and breaking into flame inside him. He grinned ferally, his fingers holding Bucky’s dick against his lips. “Fuck, yeah,” he breathed, wanting that more than anything.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... just what number is Bucky aiming for? What's the record he's trying to beat?
> 
> And remember, this is fan fiction. I've made it my headcanon that the two serums rapidly repair cells so there really isn't a point of overstimulation. Except where there was actual abrasion to the skin, but even that will shortly be healed completely. But, all this activity is burning fuel. They're super soldiers, not machines, after all. :)
> 
> You know the drill ... let me know what you think, and also what you'd like to see. And yes, I did add on another chapter to the count. It could get even higher. I did promise you smut, and you've had to wait so long for it ...


	12. I Could Do This All Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, notches are quickly made in the bedpost, and no one is complaining. Well, if they ever have a dinner party, there might be some complaining, but that's not on anyone's schedule for the moment.
> 
> In other words, have some more porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer to the finish line. I can't get over how much fun I am having writing this, so I know that now was the right time to tackle it. I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. Angsty, fluffy, sweet porn.
> 
> Oh, and if you read the last chapter right after I posted it, I did do some edits, most specifically a brief but I think funny exchange where Steve realizes that he needs to get Bucky's pants off in order to do what must be done. The insert starts after, "He finally realized he was in the wrong position to really get into it, so he pulled off with a pop, earning an actual fucking whine from Buck. He frowned then, trying to figure out what was wrong. He practically smacked his forehead at the obvious choice."

In the end, it was four, then five, and then six. By the time Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand again, Bucky was floating, blissed out, and completely incapable of doing anything that required muscle control. Rational thought seemed unlikely, too, and if an emergency were to come up, odds were Buck couldn’t do much more than flop around ineffectually, at least for the foreseeable future.

Steve found this strangely adorable, and felt inordinately proud that he’d been the cause of said floppiness.

To check his hypothesis, Steve picked up Bucky’s right wrist, held it aloft, then let it go so it just bounced back on the bed like his strings had been cut.

“Geeze, Buck, it’s like you got no bones.”

“That’s ‘cos you sucked my bones out through my dick,” Bucky replied without moving, without even opening his eyes. His lips barely moved from the blissed out smile.

“Huh, it’s not like you stopped me after the first time. Or the second.”

“Says the man who sucked my bones out my dick. I’m boneless, I can’t stop you from doing anything. See, boneless,” he added, flailing his hand around, eyes still closed.

“Gotta learn to use your fuckin’ words, Buck. You don’t’ want me to suck your dick, y’gotta say.”

“But that would mean you’d stop suckin’ my dick!” Bucky’s eyes snapped open, his expression scandalized.

“Yeah. Kinda the point,” Steve shrugged, getting up to go into the bathroom to get some water and swish it around his mouth. He kinda liked the taste of Bucky’s jizz the first time, but after two more full-blown orgasms in his mouth, he was definitely starting to taste funky. He grabbed the bottle of mouthwash and added another swish.

Bucky tried to lift his head, but it didn’t seem like he could, so he just waggled his eyebrows. “But I don’t want you to stop suckin’ my dick. You can have all my bones, just promise you’ll give me another magic blow job.”

Steve spat out the mouthwash and stuck his head out of the bathroom, calling, “What, another? Now?” 

“No, not now. _Later_. Now I have to lay here ‘cos I got no bones. ‘Cos you sucked ‘em out my dick.”

Steve chuckled to himself as he put the mouthwash back in the cabinet. “You’re an asshole, James Buchanan Barnes. You know that right?” he called out to the bedroom.

“I’m your asshole,” Bucky shouted back. “Yours, Steve. All yours. And I caught you lookin’ at my asshole – you like my asshole. Hell, you fucked my asshole. And I want you to do it again.” He made a half-hearted attempt to wiggle his ass but sighed like it was too much effort.

Looking at Bucky lying sprawled on the bed, his legs parted and his dick resting on the flat of his stomach, Steve started to wonder if he’d created an actual sex monster in the what? Four hours since he’d cornered Bucky in the lobby of his apartment level. They’d fondled each other, fucked against each other, and he’d fucked and sucked Bucky to four more orgasms. The energy between them was completely different and yet oddly familiar now that they’d seen each other naked and taken advantage of the opportunity. A breakthrough, Buck’s therapist would call it. The feral phantom of the tower, the terrifying Winter Soldier, had given way to this playful, insatiable … _boy_. In an odd way, it was like they were teenagers again, or young men, before privation, war, and ice had turned them both into armored-skin, broken icons. 

Steve smiled at the realization. He felt lighter, too, less burdened with history and responsibility. Maybe once they left the cocoon of their love nest – sex nest – whatever – and seriously aired it out and sanitized it – the world would come crashing back with all its pressure and demands. But for right now, right here, he felt young, happy, and in love. 

And definitely still horny. In fact, standing there in the doorway, Steve shifted slightly, and was forcibly reminded that while Bucky had gotten off three times – in Steve’s mouth – he’d been sporting wood so hard and so long that it had started to hurt. The skin of his dick was stretched tight and had gotten a little sore, and his balls were starting to ache from just holding it in.

Buck noticed immediately that Steve seemed uncomfortable, and his eyes dropped down to the impressive bulge jutting out against the loose fabric of Steve’s sweat pants. “Shit, baby. I’d take care of that for you, but I got no bones, ‘cos –“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Cos I sucked ‘em out your fuckin’ dick. Look, I gotta take care of this – it fuckin’ hurts.” He started to turn back toward the bathroom to rub it out when Bucky kinda of lurched forward, arm waving in his general direction.

“No, Steve, wait!”

Steve turned back. Bucky smiled. “Stay. You know I like to watch. And who knows – I might grow back some bone so I can help you out with that. And then you can suck it all out again later. Through my dick,” he added with a shit-eating grin. “C’mon – come back to bed. Can’t leave my best guy hangin’.”

“While I do all the work.”

“I would if I could, babydoll. I promise you hand jobs from now ‘til the end of the line. Blow jobs too. All the blow jobs. Just not this minute.” Bucky’s stomach chose that moment to grumble. “See, all this sex is tapping me out.”

“What, so you don’t want any more sex?”

“Fuck, are you crazy? I want sex morning, noon, and night. I always want to be having sex with you, baby,” Bucky’s face softened into sincerity, “I can’t believe I get to have this, either. I never thought this could be real. And now it is, I ain’t lettin’ go. But I do want to watch you take yourself in hand, and then we’re takin’ this to the kitchen where we’re gonna raid that fridge of yours, and then you’re gonna bend me over the damned table and plow me like a fuckin’ field. Are you with me?”

“Jesus, one fuck and you’re a goddamned cockslut, Buck. I’m kinda hopin’ you’re gonna return the favor – I’d really like to know how that feels, to have you fill me up, pound into me, make me cum on your cock,” Steve whispered as he stood, undid the drawstring on his pants and let them drop to the ground. 

Kneeling one knee on the corner of the bed, he let his right hand fall to tug at his cock, while his left stroked at the soft swell of his balls. He noticed Buck’s rapt attention on his groin, and he quirked up an eyebrow. “Like what _you_ see?”

Bucky licked his lips and swallowed like his mouth was dry. “Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes focused on the smooth movements of Steve’s hand over his dick. 

“Yeah? Toss me the lube, will ya?” Bucky did, and Steve poured some on his palm, rubbed it between both hands to warm it, and then coated his dick with it. His hand worked faster over his shaft with the lube to ease the burn. He glanced at his slippery fingers and then shrugged, twisting around so he could probe at his own asshole with his lubed fingers. The sudden gasp from Bucky made him look up sharply.

The darkness in Bucky’s eyes, and the slackness of his mouth shot flame down his spine and up his dick. He grinned. Pulling his finger away from his hole, and his other hand off his dick, he crawled up the bed and straddled Bucky, his knees on either side of his hips, and then just looked down at Buck, eyes roaming intently. Bucky’s eyes fell on Steve’s cock, a blush rising on his skin to burnish it like he was caught in firelight. Steve grasped his cock and started stroking again, while he reached back with his free hand and started fingering himself again, letting gasps and moans and whimpers drop from his lips like breath. Bucky’s hands gravitated to his thighs, and they rested there, one on either side, his palms warm and dry. Slowly, tenderly, they started to move up and down, grounding Steve, expressing to Steve Bucky’s wonder and awe as Steve jacked off in front of him.

As Steve’s hand moved faster, more surely over the length of his dick, twisting a little at the tip and plunging down over and over again, he’d worked one finger into his hole, and was pressing in with a second. He threw his head back and panted slightly. The stretch felt good, really good. He’d done this a number of times, experimenting with his own body, prepping it for a dildo, a vibrator, or a plug. He knew he liked having things up his ass, and he’d fully expected Bucky would have wanted to fuck him their first time. It had surprised him that Bucky had wanted him to fuck Bucky, and he’d enjoyed it – would love to do it again and again. But a part of him really wanted to feel Bucky split him open and pound into him with everything he had. Other than Thor, there was no one on Earth who had the power and stamina to give Steve the kind of fucking he’d really like. Not that he’d ever done anything with Thor, but he did have a few fantasies in his spank bank that he’d trotted out more than once.

He worked in a third finger, twisting and curving the fingers as he started to thrust up into his hand, alternating between fucking his fist and fucking back on his fingers.

“Jesus, Steve. Stevie, just look at you. Oh my God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so fuckin’ beautiful.” Bucky’s hands slid up his thighs and around to his ass, gripping both cheeks and pulling them apart so Steve’s fingers slid in and out more easily. As his hand pumped and his fingers fucked, Steve was getting closer, closer, Jesus, it felt so good, Bucky’s hands groping and massaging his ass, his fist flying over the head of his dick, his own fingers petting the inside of his ass. He sat up taller, half arching, half hunching over his cock as his breaths came faster, harder, higher, his ab muscles fluttered, his eyes closed and his face scrunched up against the sensations overloading him. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Bucky chanted, his hands tugging Steve up Bucky’s body. Steve followed where Bucky led, stumbling but coming to rest straddling Bucky’s torso, his dick only inches from Bucky’s face. “Come on. Cum on me, baby, mark me, do it, baby,” he said breathlessly, as though he was just as wound up and teetering on the edge of orgasm as Steve was. Steve was vaguely aware of Bucky’s fingers digging into the meat of his ass cheeks, thumbs stroking up and down along the edge of his ass crack as Steve fucked himself on his fingers.

Steve opened his eyes and looked down at Bucky, saw his mouth hanging open waiting for Steve to shoot, his eyes locked on Steve’s face as his fist squelched and slapped its way toward his impending orgasm.

And then the heat ignited the firestorm, and his climax burned through him, geysering jets of cum spattering against Bucky’s tongue, his chin, his lips, even his nose. Steve watched in fascination as the milky white stuff slid across Bucky’s skin as he grinned up at Steve. A glob oozed down his upper lip, and Bucky’s tongue snaked out and captured it, sucking it into his mouth. He swallowed, then started licking up what had fallen near his mouth. 

Steve’s hand slowed as he shook out the head, squeezing it to push out the last droplets of cum, and then he pulled the foreskin back all the way to fully expose the head and the skin of his shaft.

“Bring that bad boy here,” Bucky whispered, his hands pressing against Steve’s ass so he shuffled forward a few more inches. Bucky must have found some bones after all, because he raised his head so he could suck the head of Steve’s dick into his mouth, steadying it with his hand as he bobbed and sucked the cum from Steve’s cock.

So that’s how it felt to have your cock sucked. No wonder Bucky came three times that way. Steve might just have to break a record or two of his own.

&&&

Seven was, as Bucky predicted, Steve bending him over the kitchen table and fucking him hard and fast and rough from behind. They’d eaten quickly, devouring anything they could eat without having to cook it, and then cleared the table of anything that could be contaminated. Steve had the forethought to toss down some paper towels. And the next thing Bucky knew, he had Steve’s lube-covered fingers up his ass working him open, one, two, three, and then his pinkie too (and now Buck was having fantasies about fists, big forearms, and muscle porn), stretching and twisting until Bucky finally swore if Steve didn’t start fucking him that instant, he was throwing him on the floor and riding him until Steve’s goddamned dick was ready to fall off.

No cocks were harmed in the making of this orgasm, and Bucky came untouched from the surprisingly precise way that Steve targeted his prostate. Steve claimed it was beginner’s luck, but Bucky suspected that Steve’s skill as a military strategist might have significant bedroom applications. Steve hadn’t cum yet, but he pulled out suddenly. Bucky was not thrilled at the sudden emptiness but he was intrigued by Steve trying new things as he slid his dick between Bucky’s thighs, tucked up tight under his balls, and pressed Buck’s thighs closed around his cock. Then he started to thrust again, grabbing hold of Bucky’s dick with his lubed-up hand and jerking it hard and fast (with a little bit of sting, but it was surprisingly just the right amount of sting). Steve pounded him from this intriguing new angle. He found he liked he feel of Steve’s cock, hot, hard, and silky smooth, pushing up under his balls and peeking through, stroking along his perineum, sliding under his ass, and then back again, his balls slapping against his upper thighs. And Steve’s hand … there was something to be said about the controlled strength in those long fingers, that broad palm. It didn’t take long for Bucky to be spilling onto those paper towels again, Steve’s name ripped from his gut and cascading from his lips. Steve came shortly after, cum spattering right behind Bucky’s, a few drops dripping down the back of Bucky’s balls and down his thighs.

Yeah, eight was pretty satisfactory, and cleanup didn’t take long. Then Steve grabbed a bunch of energy and protein drinks from the fridge, a box of protein bars and a packet of wipes from the pantry closet, and dragged Bucky back to the bedroom.

Bucky was glad he’d enlisted Steve in breaking his record. Competitive Steve was determined Steve, and determined Steve was gonna get every last orgasm out of Bucky he could. And Bucky wasn’t complaining. Not even a little.

&&&

Nine was kinda lazy and languid, the two of them stretched out on the bed, gently fondling each other, playing with each other’s dicks and softly tugging on each other, rubbing against each other, just feeling each other without demand, without urgency. They kissed and kissed and kissed, hands roaming, petting, caressing. When Steve rolled them over so Buck was on his back, his legs splayed and wrapped around Steve’s hips, they just kept moving against and with each other, lost in the sensation of each other. It wasn’t even a climax so much as a quiet breath being released when they both spent against each other. And they just kept on kissing until they each drifted to sleep encircled in each other’s arms.

Ten might actually be Bucky’s favorite so far. He was back laying on his back again, feeling kinda semi-boneless after two great orgasms in the kitchen, another in bed, and a really great nap embraced by the most important person in his life, warm, safe, loved. He didn’t have any doubts about that anymore. And he didn’t have any doubts about how he felt, either. 

And he didn’t have any doubts about how he felt about kitchen sex, either. Yeah, even though they’d put down paper towels, and wiped everything down, neither of them had any plans to invite any of the Avengers over for dinner anytime soon, that was for sure. Because it had just been too fucking good not to do it again. Soon. And often.

But now, comfortably settled back on the bed, Bucky watched as Steve focused on Bucky’s dick like it was the single most important thing in the universe. Amazing how a man as big as he’d become could fold himself into such a small space, but Steve was crouched over Buck’s cock stroking and licking and playing with it to bring it to full hardness yet again. Bucky was feeling like he was almost there, but he wasn’t about to interrupt Steve in his Very Important Work. It brought him so much joy. And it felt really, really good to Bucky.

Just then, Bucky had a sudden image of a small blond boy, jaw set with determination, altar boy vestments practically swallowing him whole as he served the mass. A coiled mess of trouble about to erupt, the boy’s face softened with wonder and trust and love when he raised his eyes to serene face of Christ on the cross. That was the face that looked at _him_ now, that looked and sucked and stroked at his cock. Like somehow he was some kind of divine being, and not a man whose moral compass always pointed to Steve, and whose body had been used for so much evil over the years. When Steve looked at him that way, all of that just fell away, like it had never happened. He knew he could never fully wash away the stain on his soul, but when Steve looked at him like that, he stopped worrying about it. Because he had everything he’d ever need to enter the realm of heaven right here on earth.

Steve’s attention went back to Bucky’s dick, and he stroked it briskly, watching the flesh swell and stiffen in the curl of his hand until he was finally satisfied. All that work Steve had done opening himself fucking on his own fingers didn’t go to waste when Steve flung a leg over so he straddled Bucky, balancing himself as he reached around back to hold the head of Buck’s cock steady as he nudged it against his hole. Bucky’s hands flew to help, grabbing his dick at the root and holding the shaft in position while Steve lifted his ass to center his hole right over the head. And then faster than he ever would have expected, his cock breached Steve’s hole, and Steve slid down in one smooth move, taking every inch of his cock like he was born to it. Buck’s hands flew out of the way and grabbed onto the swell of Steve’s ass cheeks, holding on for dear life so he wouldn’t spontaneously combust.

Bucky was overwhelmed with sensation as his cock was fully sheathed in the tight, hot, wet channel of Steve’s ass. It was all he could do not to shoot his load right then and there, with a gorgeous supersoldier in his lap, and his cock jammed up said supersoldier’s miraculous ass.

Bucky wasn’t the only one who was overwhelmed. The combined moan and whine that clawed up out of Steve’s throat drew Bucky’s balls up tight, but the look of sheer pleasure on Steve’s face as he threw his head back made his dick twitch and jerk inside that tight embrace, Buck’s hips jerking up with an involuntary thrust.

“Fuck!” Steve swore, lifting his thighs to arch his back, pull up slightly on his dick, then drop down again so he was fully seated. “Oh my God, is this how it feels when I fuck you? Jesus, Buck, I don’t ever wanna go anywhere without your dick up my ass again!”

“Pretty sure Stark and Romanoff would have somethin’ to say about that, plus pretty much any other person on the planet. And I really think it would be rude to Miss Potts. Sorry, babydoll, but I ain’t sharing with anybody else when you’re like this.” He levered his hands under Steve’s cheeks, and nudged them upward. Balancing back with his right hand on Bucky’s knee, Steve took the hint and lifted himself up again, this time until only the tip was snugged in behind the ring of muscle, and then he let himself drop back down again with a whine. Bucky saw that whine, and raised him a groan.

It took a few tries for them to coordinate with each other, but pretty soon Steve was bouncing rhythmically up and down on Bucky’s cock, Bucky’s hands supporting him on the upswing, Steve balanced on one hand while the other cupped his junk so his dick didn’t break off swinging back and forth. With his head thrown back, hair flopping back and forth over his closed eyes, and his lips parted breathlessly, Steve Rogers fucking himself on Bucky’s cock may well be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He watched, holding his breath for a long moment, as Steve levered himself up and down, lost in his own pleasure, breath stuttering, skin slapping against his. 

Then he let that held breath go, flattened his hands under Steve’s ass, and said, “Let me, baby. Let me.” And Steve paused, hovering, while Bucky drew up his knees and planted his feet against the bed, holding Steve effortlessly a few inches above him, and then started pounding upward as hard and fast as he could. It was hard to know exactly where his cock was hitting, but a little shift to the left, a little more force, and he was pretty sure he found it, that little nub of nerve endings everybody talked about. Steve’d found it in him and it had nearly blown a hole out the top of his head. He was happy to return the favor to his babydoll.

Steve howled.

Grinning to himself that his aim was true (he was, after all, the best sniper in the history of sniping) and he’d wrung that noise out of little Stevie Rogers, Bucky grunted and just kept going, pistoning upward as Steve shifted his left hand to balance on Bucky’s knee, dropping his right hand to fist over his angry red, weeping cock, and stroking swiftly and frantically. Nonsense burbled out of his mouth as he let himself be driven into, held easily on a seat made of twined metal and flesh.

Bucky could feel his own orgasm lighting up his spine, fluttering through his balls and drawing them up tight. He shifted his left foot, brought it a little closer to the curve of his own ass cheek, and thrust hard and fast, earning him another howl and a stuttering series of “uh-uh-uhs” out of Steve. He could feel the pressure building, in his balls, in his spine, in his dick, and around, Steve’s walls clenching around him as Steve shifted slightly for better purchase, his fist moving fast, knuckles white from the strength of his grip on his own cock.

Then the blinding whiteout of Steve bearing down on him as another gout of cum erupted out of his cock, and Bucky felt his own orgasm ripped out his by the force of Steve’s. They were tumbling together down the rabbit hole into oblivion, sweet and hot and together.

Yeah, when he came to a little while later, Steve slumped against his chest, his cock still trapped in the clenching, fluttering channel of Steve’s ass, practically sealed together from chest to thigh by cooling jizz, number ten was definitely his favorite. So far.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whadya think? One more chapter? Two? I'm thinking maybe another two, maybe even three. I do as Bucky tells me. Yeah, that might be a kink.
> 
> Hit me up with comments!


	13. I'm the One That You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what is Bucky's goal? We're in the double digits, now, and these boys are Energizer bunnies! But sometimes, when you find yourself at rest, your guard down, the demons catch up to you, and Bucky finds himself facing the reality of what's happened so far. Good thing Steve is there to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw Captain America Civil War, and I have to say I love it. There were some lovely moments of humor, and now I desperately need a Steve / Bucky / Sam road trip movie. Like stat. It's emotional and challenging and rich, and I honestly can't see how this is the last Cap movie. Time will tell.

The boundary between sleep and waking was blurred, soft, and formless. No longer the sharp, jagged edge between unconsciousness and painful alertness, between cryo and activation of the Asset. 

He wasn’t the Asset any longer. He wasn’t used or abused. He wasn’t a thing to be reset, provided care but not caring, maintenance, not love. 

He was a person. 

Proof the first: He loved. And miraculously, he was loved in return.

Proof the second: He was safe. Not immune, or inviolate, but as safe as he’d ever been in his long, fractured life. Safer when he took into consideration the caches of custom-designed weapons he’d placed throughout the tower. But safe nonetheless. There were people who cared about him, about his safety, about his comfort. Cared that he existed and continued existing.

Proof the third: He was _warm_. Warmer than he could ever remember feeling, before the War, during or after Hydra and the Soviets. It wasn’t a humid kind of warm, although, truth be told, he was definitely feeling sticky, and he was pretty sure the sheets were going to make a crackling noise the moment he moved thanks to the copious amounts of jizz he and Steve had managed to smear across the fabric over the past few hours. But the warmth he felt was soft, radiating, embracing. It banished the chill from his flesh and sank into his bones. It was Home.

It was _Steve_. 

When they were young, their parents did everything they could to ensure they were well fed and cared for. Sometimes they’d do without so he and Steve and his little sisters could have a little more. Times were challenging, but they’d had enough. But eventually, they’d had to fare for themselves – Bucky when he was old enough to work, and there were still three other young mouths to feed, and Steve when his Ma passed. Relying on themselves, they’d tried, but cold was something they’d come to know intimately in the years that followed, in the cold water walkup in Brooklyn with the communal bathroom one to a floor, to the forests of western Europe and the hard-packed ground whose bone-cracking chill seeped up through their sleeping bags, to the Alps and the fall and the cryo chamber and the ice into which that idiot punk had downed a fucking plane. Cold. It was all cold.

Bucky hated the cold. He suspected Steve did, too.

But now, he was enveloped in warmth. Steve’s warmth. The comfort of the tower. Temperature control and good food and comfy clothes and hot water and a soft place to lay his head. People who wanted to be his friends. He’d despaired of ever relaxing, ever feeling safe. And yet here, in this quiet space with Steve, he felt at rest, finally home, finally at peace. And oh so warm.

He let his eyes drift open and was rewarded with a close-up view of the person he loved best and first of all: Steve. Long lashes fanned across his cheeks, his face soft and young in repose, a dusting of gold freckles you could only really see if you were this close, close where he always wanted to be, his skin still clean-shaven, showing only the barest shadow of stubble, his lips parted slightly and his hands drawn up like a child’s fists, crossed under his chin. 

Bucky was hit with an overwhelming sense of affection and memory seeing him like that – he’d slept that way when they were kids, into puberty and even into adulthood. Arms crossed at the wrists under his chin as though to hold in the heat. Bucky had always thought it was to hold in the light so he wouldn’t wake Bucky or his Ma or the neighbors. The light of his passion, his spirit, that burned so bright. He’d always seen Steve as an earthbound angel, one of God’s chosen, a beacon in the long dark night.

He had a sudden flash of Steve curled in on himself in a sleeping bag on the frozen ground of a mountain top in Austria, his blond hair fallen over his forehead, obscuring one eye, and Bucky nearly crying with the urge to tuck the hair aside, to run his fingers through it, to stroke that downy cheek, and run his thumb across that pale pink lip.

And it was a shock to realize that this was something he could have. This was something he could do. It was something he’d always wanted, always believed it was his greatest source of shame, but now … now it was okay. And as he looked at that beloved face in repose, he realized it wasn’t his great shame to love him, but his great honor, his great pride. He didn’t have to fear reprisal or court martial or shaming or violence. He could just … be. He could just love Steve. And Steve could love him.

Steve _did_ love him. And he loved Steve, with everything in him, he loved this man.

And he’d almost missed out on this. If Steve, if anyone, had taken him up on his request to end it, to kill him, he would have left this life without ever knowing how much he loved Steve, how much Steve loved him. He would have missed out on kissing Steve, on touching Steve, on bringing him to the edge and beyond, on being worshipped by Steve. Would have missed laughing with Steve, falling asleep in Steve’s arms, and waking to lie side by side with Steve, each rolled on their sides, facing each other, and sharing air and warmth and love. Bad breath, farts, and sticky, itchy skin, too, but he’d take it all to be with Steve.

He would have missed so much. He would have missed everything worth living for. He would truly have been in hell. A hell worse than his half-life with Hydra, the surgeries, the kills, the years in cryo, the months of “treatment” by Zola and Fenhoff.

To not love Steve, that was hell. Anything else was just a warmup, never the main event.

So, he was unexpectedly grateful that every last one of them – Steve, Stark, Romanoff, Wilson, all of them – had listened to his pleas to help him die and fucking ignored him. Scoffed, maybe, turned away, leveled him with a disbelieving or a disapproving look. Flipped him the bird. But all of them had refused to give him what he’d thought he’d deserved, what he’d thought he’d wanted.

When what he’d really wanted was Steve. When what he’d really needed was Steve. That was all he’d ever wanted, ever needed. He wasn’t sure he deserved him, he might never be sure. But Steve wanted him. And he would not deny him, not ever again. So if Steve wanted him, it wasn’t a matter of whether or not Bucky deserved Steve. Steve deserved to have what he wanted. Steve got what he wanted. Or whoever denied him would have to deal with _him_.

But the thought that he could have missed out on this, could have died without ever knowing the truth of Steve’s feelings … he couldn’t control the whimper that clawed its way up his throat, the painful constriction as he realized just how close he’d come to true hell. Just how close he’d come to condemning Steve, too. Sudden tears, hot and stinging, sprang to his eyes as he recognized just how easily it could all have gone wrong, at his hand, by his own design.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice faint and broken even to his own ears.

“Mmmm?” Steve murmured, lifting one eyebrow, but not opening his eyes. He snuggled a little deeper into his pillow, rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I almost left you all alone,” Bucky repeated softly, his voice breaking on a sob. The tears were flowing freely now, trails running across his nose and down his left cheek as he felt the onset of panic flickering at the edge of his awareness.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, opening his eyes, brow furrowed with worry. “Buck, what’s wrong?” He uncurled his hands, uncrossed his wrists, and reached for Bucky, his warm hand smoothing over Bucky’s naked shoulder. Suddenly, Bucky needed to be surrounded, enveloped, consumed by the heat of Steve’s body.

Bucky reached for Steve blindly, and as always, Steve was there. They curled into each other, closing the circuit that had always been SteveandBucky, BuckyandSteve. And Bucky was right – the sheets crinkled and crackled as they moved, and Steve wrinkled his nose eloquently. “Gotta strip this bed, Buck. Think we both need a shower, too,” he added, pulling Bucky’s head against his shoulder, into the crook of his neck, and held him there, arms around his shoulders, as the tremors grew, wracking his body and dredging up sobs and gasps as the emotions held in check for so long simply could no longer be contained. He’d thought himself immune to this depth of feeling, but he’d just been holding it at bay. And now it was freed from the prison he’d made for his heart. Steve had unlocked it, unleashed the feelings, and now they would not be denied. Nearly convulsing with the onslaught, he clung to Steve desperately, their legs tangled and Bucky’s arms, flesh and metal, wrapped around Steve’s waist as he burrowed his face into Steve’s neck. Steve’s hands gently slid up and down his back, a caress, a benediction, a balm.

Gradually, the shakes eased, quieted. Bucky snuggled closer, unwilling to let go.

“Now tell me what’s wrong,” Steve said softly, kissing the top of Bucky’s head.

Bucky lifted his head from the cradle of Steve’s neck, and lifted bleary eyes to the man he loved. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, Steve, and still you had my back. I’m so sorry, baby. I woulda left you alone here in the future, I asked you to fuckin’ kill me, and I never once thought about how you would feel. I been so fuckin’ selfish. I’m so sorry I hurt you, Steve. I was tryin’ t’protect you, protect you from me – I never thought about how you’d feel if –“

“If you died?” Steve whispered, a wet sob in his own voice. “I’d’a died, too, Buck. When you fell … I did die. Least I tried. I never expected to wake up when I put the _Valkyrie_ in the water. I didn’t want to wake up to a world where you were gone. I thought God was punishin’ me for, I dunno, my hubris, my ego in thinkin’ I could be more than I was. Dumb punk from Brooklyn, thinkin’ he could make a difference.”

“You _do_ make a difference. You make a difference every day. This whole fuckin’ planet owes you ten times over, Steve. Don’t you ever sell yourself short –“

“Right back at ya, Buck.”

“I didn’t save the world, Steve. I may have changed history, but I sure as fuck didn’t save the world. My targets, the men and women I was pointed at, the people I killed – _they_ were the ones who were supposed to save the world. I ain’t –“

Bucky’s declaration of his unfitness to live was cut off by a bruising kiss from Steve, his fingers digging hard into the meat of his flesh shoulder, gripping hard on the metal one, enough that the sensors registered the pressure.

“You saved me,” Steve said fervently. “I didn’t want to live in this century, I … I mean the Avengers are okay, and Sam’s great, and Natasha is Natasha. But Peggy’s slipping away, all the guys are gone, and no one knows _me_ here in the future. And then I found out you were alive. You were out there. And I had a reason to breathe. I had a reason to put one foot in front of the other. I had a reason to be selfish, ‘cos there was no way I was gonna live without you –“

“But you did, I made you. I hurt you, Steve, and I never meant for that – I thought I was _protecting_ you –“

“You’re here now. You’re here now, Buck, you’re in my arms, you’re in my bed, you’re in my life. Y’ain’t leavin’ anytime soon, are ya?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently.

“Then that’s that. It’s done, out of the way. We move on, together. Right? ‘Til the end of the line?”

And that was the thing about Steve. He didn’t hold grudges. Bucky remembered when Bertie Havers was tossing rocks at the neighborhood strays old Mrs. Chilicki used to feed. Steve was a whirling dervish of bad temper and flailing fists, and he made Bertie help him take care of the dog that got hurt by Bertie’s stones. Then Bertie started helping Mrs. Chilicki, carrying her groceries, and putting food out for the strays when she didn’t feel up to it. By the time she passed, Bertie had taken over, and just kept on doing it, right up until he got called up, and then he passed on the responsibility to one of the neighborhood kids. But as soon as Bertie apologized and started helping Mrs. Chilicki, Steve forgave him his bad, and they became sort of friends. Steve even invited him to join him and Buck going to the Saturday pictures, and Bucky never said a word about how jealous he was, but he was glad when Bertie had to beg off.

Funny how those little bits of memory come flooding back.

But Bucky knew that Steve meant it when he said it was done. Bucky was forgiven, and that’s that.

“Yeah,” he whispered, turning his face so that his lips brushed against Steve’s. “We move on, together. God, how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky to have you?”

“You’re lucky? D’you remember when we met? All the boys’d picked sides for stickball, and no one wanted me. You picked me. You let me belong. An’ then you shook my hand and told me were friends. You don’t think you changed my life that day, Buck? You don’t think I feel like I owe you everything? I found the pot at the end of the rainbow that day.”

“Huh.” 

“Huh, your ass. Speakin’ of which, I think we really, really need to change these sheets. I’m startin’ t’itch like a sonovabitch. And I think a nice long shower would feel good, in the big shower, where there’s room for both of us. If y’know what I mean,” he waggled his eyebrow lecherously, earning a giggle and a smack from Bucky. 

Fuck yeah, this boy was a keeper. But then, he always had been.

&&&

Steve insisted on stripping the bed and remaking it with fresh sheets before they retired to the shower room and the wonders it might offer. Bucky was okay with that – the mundane actions of housekeeping helped to settle him, center him, put the demons back in the box where they belonged. And he knew that they were going to mess up those crisp, clean sheets in the very near future. Literally wash, rinse, repeat. 

Hey, according to Stark Lite, he had money, lots of it. Something to do with back pay and recompense. He could buy a whole store full of clean, soft sheets. Never have to do laundry again. Which left more time for fucking.

He imagined there would come a time when they would actually be able to keep their hands to themselves, when routine would take the place of constant need. But that day was not today. And as he appreciated the view of naked Steve wrestling with the last corner of the fitted sheet, his dick swaying and bobbing without shame as he fought with the fabric while trying not to rip through it with his big-ass super soldier hands as he tugged it into place, he thanked whoever looked out for ex-brainwashed super soldier assassins that he got to live today. 

His dick also thanked that kindly deity – what else could it do with all that luscious skin on display, that gorgeous cock at half-mast, that body. But most of all, that soul. That old soul who somehow loved him. Who miraculously was here, in this insane future, willing to share it with him.

Finally Steve was satisfied with the sheets, and Bucky felt the overwhelming need to snark at him, “What, no military corners? Gonna bounce a quarter on that sheet, make sure it’ll pass muster? Don’t think ole Chester’d give you a pass on that, Rogers.”

“Fuck you. I’ll bounce a quarter off your goddamn ass, Barnes. Bet it’ll land in the next room.”

“You love this goddamn ass, Rogers,” he smirked, giving a little wiggle to show off, let his own cock shimmy and jerk. 

The widening and darkening of Steve’s eyes was reward enough, but he really loved it when Steve answered in a slightly choked voice, “I know how tight it is. You’re right, I love that goddamn ass.”

“So let’s get to showering, so you can show me how much you love my goddamn ass,” Bucky sassed, feeling rejuvenated by their backtalk, the easy way they teased. He could have made a massive, irrecoverable mistake. But he hadn’t. Steve wouldn’t let him. Steve had his back like no one else ever had. So he was here. Steve was here. And they had each other, finally. And no heads were stuck up anybody’s asses, leaving room for far more pleasurable things …

&&&

Modern plumbing had a lot to recommend it. There was the whole hot water at the turn of the tap thing. That was really good. Not having to go down the hall and wait for Mr. Hendricks to finish reading his newspaper before he gave up the can to someone else. That was like a gift from the heavens. Rows of little jets spurting hot water at pressure? That was either divine inspiration or work of the devil. Whoever designed it – and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn it was Stark Lite – he really, really needed to thank somebody for the sensations up and down his back, over his ass, and down his legs. That massage feature? A-okay in Bucky Barnes’s book.

And what Steve was doing right now? Well. It was goddamned sorcery.

Since he’d been circumcised as a baby, he’d never had the pleasure of a foreskin , and honestly hadn’t realized what a wonderful thing it was. Steve had his foreskin stretched out, pulled over Bucky’s cock like a tight sleeve, warm, smooth, soft, and deliciously snug. Inside the foreskin, the head of his dick kissed Steve’s, slits rubbing against each other as Steve worked the foreskin back and forth over where their cocks joined. 

Bucky had never experienced a sensation like this, and from the way Steve closed his eyes and trembled, neither had he. 

Bucky dropped his hand to wrap lightly around the skin enveloping his cock and Steve’s, careful not to dislodge the skin, or handle it too roughly. At first he fought the urge to thrust against Steve, but when Steve had noticed his hesitance, he shook his head said, “Fuck it, Buck. Fuck against me. Feels good.”

And it did feel good. The only thing he didn’t like about the experience was the fact they were separated from each other by the length of a dick, and their hands were busy holding the foreskin in place, sliding the looser skin back and forth over each other, and trying to keep their cocks in constant contact with each other. So Bucky wasn’t tasting and feeling skin all over Steve’s body, and kissing took a little more coordination than he was capable of. 

But as their hands moved faster and surer over the long line of their joined cocks, delicate and light as though they were playing an instrument together. They bumped and prodded each other with the soft-skinned, hot and hard heads of their dicks, an odd but delicious sensation. As they gave over to the pleasure spiking in each of them, the orgasm was unlike any he’d ever experienced before. He could feel the heat of Steve’s cockhead against his own, the twitch and the pulse as it leaked pre-cum against him, coating him in Steve’s juices, making the slide that must more pleasurable. And when Steve came, Bucky could feel the sudden outpouring of hot, thick jizz welling out of Steve’s slit, swelling the foreskin like a balloon, engulfing his own cock, filling the spaces between Steve’s foreskin and the flesh of his own dick, and washing over the head and warming the skin behind the ridge. Strange and amazing, he knew he’d like to try this again. And then he was emptying himself into that tight flesh sleeve, the thick white cum of eleven oozing out around the edge of the flesh pulled taut over his shaft. 

When they’d shot everything they had, Steve slid the foreskin back, releasing a blurt of cum to slide off Bucky’s dick and into the shower drain. The fall of the water cleared away the evidence quickly as Bucky held his softening dick out to catch the shower spray. 

Steve slid his foreskin back further to release the remaining cum, swirled his thumb over the head and under the foreskin, and threw his head back with a sigh. He looked so deliciously fucked out, Bucky couldn’t help himself – he crowded Steve up against the wall, let him feel all the jets pounding against his back, and pressed hot, hungry kisses against his mouth, his tongue probing and tasting. He reached down and curled his hand around both their dicks and started stroking, hard, fast, determined. They kept kissing each other, biting, sucking, licking, Steve panting and cursing as Bucky worked him over. It didn’t take long to follow up eleven with twelve, and soon they were panting against each other, rivulets of jizz trailing down their legs, hot water streaming over every rise and fall of flesh, hips still rutting against each other as they traded open-mouthed, tongue-filled kisses.

&&&

Shower sex – which got Bucky’s seal of approval and enthusiastic endorsement for “things I want to do again real soon like right now” – was logically followed by blow jobs. Why those two activities appeared to be connected, Bucky didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to question it when Steve dropped to his knees, nosing around Bucky’s balls and ghosting his breath over his dick. Steve looked up and asked if it was okay – and Buck was hit with that sense of déjà vu. He nodded, but Steve said, “Use your words, Buck. I wanna hear you. Can I suck your dick?”

“Leave me some bones this time, Steve. Unless you plan on carrying me outta here bouncin’ on your dick,” he said flippantly, stroking one finger over Steve’s cheekbone, down to his jaw, and across to his lips.

And yeah, depending on how you looked at it, that was either a very bad idea, or the best fucking suggestion Bucky Barnes had ever made to Steve Rogers. It may have cost him a consciousness-altering blow job right then, but what he got instead? One for the record books.

At the suggestion of carrying Bucky, Steve’s whole demeanor changed. It changed from loving and playful to feral and hungry in the space of a single breath. And then Steve surged to his feet, again abandoning his promised blow job in favor of crashing his mouth against Bucky’s, practically devouring his face and crawling down his throat. Bucky was totally on board as he thrust his tongue into Steve’s mouth, kissing him filthily and thoroughly as his hands slid down to grab twin fistfuls of prime Rogers ass, and his right leg hooked itself around Steve’s left as he felt his back hit the tiled wall of the shower enclosure. Again. He really didn’t mind, although someday he was gonna leave a dent. Having the wall at his back gave him a little better leverage to grind his rapidly hardening dick against Steve’s, which had gone from sorta interested to I’m ready in the space of a heartbeat. 

And when Steve’s hands snaked under his ass and simply lifted him up – literally held him aloft by this ass, hands smoothing over his skin and denying Bucky the pleasure of sliding his dick alongside Steve’s. He was about to become annoyed when he felt the blunt head of Steve’s hard dick pressing against his asshole, a moment of pressure, and then the glorious stretch as Steve slid home, pulling Bucky’s ass down so he was fully seated. 

And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Well, felt. Wouldn’t mind seeing. He wondered if they could install mirrors, on one wall of the shower, in the bedroom. Maybe the kitchen. Definitely the living room. Pretty much everywhere, because he didn’t’ think there was any place in Steve’s apartment that didn’t have applications for sex of some kind.

He wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, crossing at the ankles. He felt like an octopus wrapped around him, especially when he locked his arms around Steve’s shoulders and groaned into his neck, sucking a bruise there and drawing some of the skin into his mouth to bite at it. Steve growled, turning his face to bite at Bucky’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth as he pressed them tighter against the wall. One experimental thrust, two, then three, and shifting his grip on Bucky’s ass, Steve started to pound up into him, grunting with the effort. Bucky held on for dear life as Steve pressed his face into Bucky’s shoulder, mouthing wetly at the skin there, and fucked him hard.

It felt great, incredible even, but Bucky was frankly getting tired of being wet. Soaked. As Steve shredded his ass with strong thrusts, rhythmic and deep, Bucky shifted in Steve’s arms so he could lean in to mouth at Steve’s ear and say, “Howsabout we take this down the hall so I don’t end up looking like a prune while you have your way with me Captain Rogers, hmmm?”

Steve pulled away from Bucky’s neck and stared at him with darkened eyes, his mouth slack. Bucky could swear Steve’s eyes grew darker, hungrier, and he filed that away. So, Steve had a title kink? He could work with that – he’d just have to start testing what did it for Steve, and what didn’t. Steve seemed to shake hmself, like a dog, and then answered in feigned nonchalance, “Yeah, sure, Buck,” Steve agreed breathlessly, taking a step back from the tiled wall and putting his hand on Bucky’s shin to uncross Buck’s ankles.

“Nah. I like it just fine where I am,” Bucky corrected, wriggling slightly to nestle in closer, still impaled on Steve’s cock, tightening the grasp of his legs and shifting his grip so he could look Steve in the face. “In fact, I think I’ll stay here while you carry me to your bed, baby. I like where your cock is, doll.” And then he pressed the heels of both feet against Steve’s ass, levered himself up, and dropped himself down on Steve’s cock. 

Steve grunted in surprise, his hands moving swiftly to press into the small of Bucky’s back as he readjusted his grip on Steve’s shoulders, and did the same thing again, tensing his powerful thighs, rising up, holding his position with just the tip of Steve’s cock held in his ass, then rolling down, taking it all back with a deep groan. He circled his hips for an ending flourish. “Think you can make it back to the bedroom, Stevie?” Bucky asked with a smirk, stroking his fingers up and down the back of Steve’s neck. “Think you’ve got it in ya to take me all the way?” To punctuate his question, he pressed in his knees, lifted himself up until only the head of Steve’s cock was still held inside his ass, waited, and then let himself slide down the curve of Steve’s dick, then settle in, wriggling a little to slot into place.

“Think you’ve got it in _you_ ,” Steve giggled at the end of a long, low groan. “Hold on tight,” he added, bracing his arms around Bucky’s lower torso, and his hands under Bucky’s ass. 

“Never lettin’ go,” Bucky promised, and laced the fingers of his hands behind Steve’s neck for emphasis, brushing his lips against Steve’s. “Now let’s get goin’. I don’t wanna have to do all the work here, punk,” he added, letting his hands slide back out to grip Steve’s shoulders as lifted up again and crashed down, lifted, and crashed. He rapidly built up a rhythm that had Steve gasping, groaning, and stumbling as he tried to get down the hall with an enthusiastic, 200 plus pounds ex-assassin bouncing on his dick.

“Like I can deny _you_ anything, jerk,” Steve answered, his breath stuttering in rhythm to Bucky’s bouncing.

He hadn’t gotten all the way down the hall when he had to stop, leaning into Bucky pressed against the wall, Bucky’s legs still wrapped around Steve’s waist. “Fuck, baby, you feel so goddamned good,” he breathed against Bucky’s skin as he fucked up into Bucky, taking Bucky’s breath away. Bucky shifted his arms to wrap around Steve’s neck again and just hold on. “I never thought I could feel this way, that anyone could make me feel this way,” he added, grabbing Bucky’s face between his palms as he pressed in against the wall. Steve gasped as Bucky took advantage of the leverage of the wall to lift himself up again, this time squeezing his asshole around Steve’s dick on the downswing. Steve pressed him deeper into the wall, resting his forehead against Bucky’s as he groaned, long and low. “God, Buck. It’s you, it’s only you,” he whispered, his breath hot across his cheeks, his lips. “I love you, you fucking jerk.” 

“I love you, too, punk,” Bucky answered, capturing Steve’s lips and kissing him sloppily, wet and full of tongue. “Now fuck me like you mean it,” he ordered, chuckling.

“What, you think I’ve been insincerely fucking you?” Steve giggled, digging into Bucky’s glutes with his fingers. 

“I think you’re slackin’,” Bucky answered, grunting with the effort of riding Steve’s dick. “I think you need to up your fuckin’ game.”

A fire blazed in Steve’s eyes. Ah, they are you, baby. Mr. Competitive. And suddenly Steve was practically sprinting down the remainder of the hallway, hands bracing Bucky’s ass as Bucky’s continued to fuck himself on Steve’s cock. This was one of those incredibly rare occasions when he thought he might actually owe a thanks to Armin Zola, that creepy scientist fuck who made him into a super soldier, who helped make him the Winter Soldier. The serum Zola had forced on him made him strong, strong enough that he could lift himself and control his descent enough so he didn’t hurt Steve with his enthusiasm and thrust. He and Steve were uniquely capable of bringing pleasure to each other than normal humans could not.

Huh. It was like he was built for Steve, designed for him. He knew he’d been designed for death and destruction, but now he could take that design and put it to good use – pleasuring Steve Rogers.

Well, if that would be his epitath, he thought he could work with that. There were worse things – much worse – that he had done. If he went out bringing Steve pleasure, it would be an honor.

But he wasn’t ready to go out. He was ready to bring his boy to climax, himself, and then start all over again.

He still had a record to break. And he was aiming high.

Steve had made it to the bedroom, with its big bed and its nice clean sheets, and he stalked right past it to push up against the opposite wall. “Reinforced,” he explained briefly as he shoved Bucky right up against the wall, smashed his lips against Bucky’s, grabbed hold of his hips, and started pounding into him. Like a fucking piledriver, right into Bucky’s prostate, precisely on every goddamn stroke. Bucky’s breath stuttered as he howled from the onslaught on his prostate. It was simultaneously intensely pleasurable and intensely painful, but he held on, and focused on where the pain and the pleasure intersected to make the best possible sensation.

He was getting close, and he could tell from the way Steve drove into him, the way the whines and the grunts escalated and grew higher, thinner, needier, Steve was getting close, too. He slid his hand down to take his cock and started tugging and pulling and stroking to bring himself to the point of no return.

And there it was. Lucky thirteen. And it was a doozy.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, definitely two more chapters. I've had most of the final chapter written since November 2014, but we had to get through some stuff to get there. So, we are nearly at the end of our journey together.
> 
> Will there be more? Will there be a sequel? Possibly. I don't have a plot jumping up and down screaming "write me!" right now, but I have to admit I love this incarnation of Steve and Bucky, so I don't rule it out. Maybe checking back in with them a year or so later, just to see how they're doing.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	14. I Think I Wanna ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the relationship is still fragile and new, Steve wants to know if Bucky is sticking around, or if this is a fluke that will leave Steve emotionally flattened. The conversation takes an unexpected turn that has far reaching implications for Steve, Bucky, and everyone they know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, the chapter count crept up again. I have this outline of what needs to happen, and I am considering suggestions from readers, and ... well, let's just say this chapter had a logical place to end it, so some of the activity I'd planned for this chapter slips to the next one. And I get the chapter to the point where I'm really excited to share it, plus the logical break point. 
> 
> Also, while I love, love, love Civil War, a conversation in a group on FB has inspired a missing sequence which I've started writing. I don't need another plot bunny! I still haven't finished my Winter Soldier sequel. Or this. Or On the Air. Or It Takes a Village. Or any one of 30+ story ideas I've got going. But, I'm probably going to cruise through that so I can share it in the next few days. You know how it is when something insists on being written.

They cleaned each other up, raided the stash for water and protein bars, and fell into bed – with clean, silent sheets! – feeling sated – for now – and happy. 

“We should get one of those mini-fridge things for the bedroom,” Bucky murmured, tracing patterns with his flesh fingers on Steve’s chest, while mouthing softly at his neck.

“Kitchen’s right down the hall.”

“Yeah, but going down the hall can kill the mood. We need supplies right where we have sex.”

“We could have sex anywhere in the apartment – I hear couch sex can be really good. You can get at different angles with couch cushions, y’know? You want a mini-fridge there, too?”

“Now you’re talkin’. Keep a stash of water and beer. Maybe some protein shakes. And those string cheese things. I swiped some from Clint’s stash, and they’re good. Sustaining. And a little compartment for lube, right? Flavors, maybe. Everything in arm’s reach so if the mood hits, we don’t have to go anywhere, just go for it. Why spend time doing something else when we can be doing each other?”

“Is the same man who wouldn’t even talk to me for months?”

“Not anymore. Now I know you want the same thing … I don’t feel like I’m gonna taint you. In fact, I think you’re corrupting me. I was untrained of the ways of gay sex, Rogers. And now look at me – I cannot get enough of this,” he curled his fingers around Steve’s flaccid dick, “or these,” his hand shifted down to cup and caress his balls, “or this,” his fingers slid down to circle Steve’s hole, still warm and slick and loose from the last time he’d fucked him. He stroked over it gently as he lowered his lips to suck on Steve’s left nipple, teasing it with his tongue for a moment before lifting his face back up to rest it on his metal fist. “Or those, definitely can’t get enough of those,” he said with a wicked grin. “And I will never have my fill of these,” he added, levering himself up to he could press a chaste kiss against Steve’s lips. “Those are my favorite part. Even more than this,” he lifted his flesh hand to graze fingers over Steve’s nipple, and he did a full body shiver and a gasp that resolved into a sigh. “Or this,” his natural hand dropped down to Bucky’s groin, and his fingers slid around Steve’s dick and started jerking him off slowly, gently.

“I cannot get enough of _you_ ,” he concluded, stretching his neck so he could cover Steve’s mouth with his own in sweet, open-mouthed kisses. “You’re an addiction I don’t wanna kick, baby. “ 

“That mean you’re stayin’?” Steve asked softly as Bucky moved on to mouth slow, wet kisses into his jaw, his hand still moving slowly, softly on Steve’s dick, which was just starting to fill a little.

Bucky paused, lips smooshed against Steve’s skin. “Stayin’?” he repeated, his voice cracking, his hand stilling. He could almost feel Steve’s dick deflate in that moment.

Steve’s hands moved to massage at his shoulders, but to Bucky it felt like he was preparing to catch him if he tried to bolt.

Which, considering his history over the past several months, was a pretty reasonable bet. Bolting, that is. 

So he willed himself to relax, release Steve’s cock and slide his left arm over Steve’s broad chest to curl his fingers around his ribs, and hold the man he loved, the man he’d always loved.

Then he lifted his head and curled his metal fist under his chin, shifting to rest it again on Steve’s right pec. “That an invitation?”

“If that’s what you need,” Steve said softly, tilting his head to look directly into Bucky’s eyes from this new angle. “I mean, you’re talkin’ about redecoratin’, bein’ able to … well, do it wherever, whenever the mood strikes. Mood can’t strike if you’re not here. And what’s the point of redecoratin’ if you’re not here to share it?”

Bucky stared into those blue eyes of Steve’s for a moment, feeling like that rabbit hole they’d fallen into was still calling his name. Even when he hadn’t even known himself, somehow he’d known this man, loved him, longed for him. If he was going to be free of Hydra, if he was going to know his own mind, if he had free will, well … he chose to be with Steve. He was all in. _All in_.

And in that moment, he could see the future, could see what this man meant to him, what he wanted and needed and what must happen.

“Y’know, Doc told me that a lot’s changed since we lived in Brooklyn together,” he said, shifting again so he could pillow his head on Steve’s chest. Steve’s hand came up and curled around his shoulders, stroking softly at his hair.

“Yeah. Generations have passed. More wars were fought. The internet was founded.”

“And filled with cats,” Bucky agreed, not bothering to stifle a giggle.

“And filled with cats,” Steve agreed fondly.

“And porn. There’s a lot of porn. Some of it’s even good porn. We need to watch porn together! How about watching our own porn, the stuff Jarvis records?” Bucky lifted his head and twisted around excitedly to gauge Steve’s reaction. Which shouldn’t have surprised him – Steve ducked his head and was embarrassed by the idea.

“I dunno, Buck. I don’t think I need to see my own naked ass on TV. It’s bad enough Tony makes us watch news coverage of the PR crap we have to do.”

“Not the same thing, Steve. But I get it. Guess that’s a kink I’ll have to indulge on my own.”

“Duly noted. But, um … you didn’t answer. Stayin’? Or goin’?”

Bucky repositioned himself so he was propped up on his metal arm, elbow digging into the give of the mattress. “Doc’s the one who told me that it’s okay now for men to love each other. Like, we don’t have to worry about gettin’ arrested, or bein’ killed for bein’, you know, _this way_.”

“Yeah. It’s a lot better than it was, but there’s still a lot of hate crimes happening to the LGBTQA community,” Steve said, looking at him fondly and running a knuckle softly along the curve of Bucky’s cheek.

“Yeah, so not perfect, but really, really different. Better in a lot of ways. Laws have changed. Society’s changed. She said, um … she _said_ ,” he faltered, taking a deep breath, his eyes dropping down to stare at a point over Steve’s shoulder. Steve caught his chin with his index finger and raised it to bring Bucky’s eyes in line with his own, then let his thumb stroke gently over Bucky’s jawline. “She said it’s legal now. Not just lovin’ each other. But gettin’ married.”

Steve’s thumb stopped moving as his lips parted silently. His brows drew together in confusion. “Married,” he repeated softly.

“Married,” Bucky repeated with a little more energy. “As in, would you like to be married to _me_?”

“Are you fuckin’ _proposin’_?” Steve demanded, his eyes widening.

“Yeah. Okay, I don’t have a ring, and I’m not on one knee, but I love you fuckin’ much it hurts. So, what about it, punk? Wanna get married?” Bucky asked hopefully, feeling his heart thud against his ribs like a bare knuckle fighter. 

Steve didn’t answer right away, but the height to which his eyebrows rose would have been comical if it weren’t for how badly Bucky was banking on Steve’s reaction. It was bold of him, he knew. Crazy even. But now that he’d committed, now that he’d revealed his feelings, now that Steve had revealed his, he saw no reason not to reach for the stars. Take it all.

But Steve wasn’t answering, he was just laying there, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound was coming out.

Bucky felt a cold wash of fear spread from his core out to his extremities.

He’d misread the situation. Saying he loved him in the privacy of their jizz-scented bedroom was one thing. Captain America could have a fuck buddy on the side. Being married to him in front of God and country was quite another. Steve wasn’t ready to do that, wasn’t ready to come out –

“Yeah,” Steve breathed reverently. “Yeah, I’ll marry you, jerk.” His thumb dipped in and pressed against Bucky’s neck, propelling Bucky upward to crash his lips into Steve’s. “Guess that means you’re stayin’, right?” he murmured against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky pulled away to look into Steve’s eyes, his face serious. “You just try gettin’ ridda me,” Bucky replied, then dove down to kiss Steve again. Kiss him good and proper and deep and filthy like he deserved to be kissed.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, returning the kiss with the deepest wells of his own passion. Bucky barely even registered the fact that Steve rolled them over so Bucky was on his back, his legs naturally falling open as Steve scooted forward to kneel in the open V, grabbing Bucky’s thighs and pulling them over his hips, dragging Bucky’s ass up over his own thighs to snug up against Steve’s groin. Bucky looked up at him breathlessly, feeling desire spike and flood his senses. Next thing he knew, Steve had wrapped his arms around his torso, lifted him up so they were chest to chest, and Steve had his fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair as he pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Yeah, that one might just leave a mark until morning.

Then suddenly his ass was catching air as Steve lifted him up, held his dick steady at Bucky’s asshole, and slid home with a single, determined thrust. 

It might not be the _Hallelujah Chorus_ , and angels might not have wept, but the sound that ripped out of Bucky at that made Steve smile, the smile of a predator who’d trapped his prey and knew he could play as long as he liked. Bucky surrendered willingly as Steve drew him even closer so there was no skin left untouched along their fronts. He lifted up so he could adjust his legs so like Steve, he was kneeling, balanced in Steve’s lap, but knees pressing into the bed so he had leverage to meet Steve’s thrusts with his own. They each encircled the other with their arms, hands roaming, touching, claiming, as they moved with and against each other in a dance that Bucky realized now would never end. And he counted himself the luckiest man ever to live if this was to be his fate. 

Only in his most secret, wildest dreams had he ever seen a future with Steve.

And now, the future had already begun, better, richer, sweeter than anything he could have imagined.

As Steve’s hands pressed against Bucky’s shoulder blades to hold him close, as Steve mouthed along the juncture of Bucky’s neck and shoulder, as Steve sank his teeth into the flesh there, as Steve rocked back and forth with increasing intensity, as Steve reached deeper and deeper into Bucky’s soul with each thrust, Bucky spewed moans and groans and gasps and fragments of what might be words, their meaning lost to anything but, “I love you.” And Steve answered, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, spoken with words and tongue and hands and cock. 

“When?” Steve gasped against his lips as they slid tongues and lips against each other wetly, clumsily.

“When wha’?” Bucky groaned, feeling the head of Steve’s dick sliding over his prostate. Not targeted pokes, but a steady stroke that sparked the nerve endings in a warm and pleasurable way, constantly hinting at explosion, but delivering a continuous flow of endorphins that made his head swim. His leaky cock was trapped between their rutting bodies, the ridges of his and Steve’s abs running up and down along the head, the shaft, his balls getting massaged by the thrust of Steve’s pelvis. Bucky felt like his brain was drowning in pleasure, and rational thought was simply beyond his capabilities.

“Get married. When?” Steve asked, letting his hands drift down to Bucky’s ass, where he dug in and grabbed two fistfuls of prime Barnes. 

Bucky whined at the sensation, riding the cusp of pain/pleasure. Then he buried his hands in Steve’s hair, letting the short, soft strands slide through his fingers flesh and metal, reveling in the warmth, the softness, the immediacy of Steve in him, around him, against him. “Soon’s possible,” he grunted, riding the edge of Steve’s latest thrust.

“Tomorrow?” Steve asked, dropping his head to suckle at Bucky’s earlobe, nip at Bucky’s jaw, suck his way down Bucky’s neck.

“If y’want. Yeah,” Bucky agreed, panting as his fingers pressed into the back of Steve’s head to hold him against his neck, guide him to his most sensitive spots. Steve was happy to comply.

“Mmmhmm,” Steve agreed, his breath hot and wet against Bucky’s skin. He nosed at Bucky’s hair, long hair, loose and messy and perfect as Steve tugged back on it. “Fuck,” he swore suddenly, and it was a good kind of fuck.

“Mmmm?”

“PR. Shit. I gotta come out.”

“Not yet, we ain’t done,” Bucky protested.

“No – I gotta come out as gay. To the public. Bi, I guess,” he frowned, pulling back slightly so he could look into Bucky’s eyes. 

Bucky felt that Steve was a little too capable of rational thought right then, and took the opportunity to pull up and grind down on Steve’s dick, reminding him of just what was important. “Talk later,” Bucky growled. “Fuck now.”

Steve got with the program, and closed his mouth over Bucky’s, his thrusts quicker, harder, deeper. Bucky got up on his knees and just held on, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders.

Moments later, his orgasm hit him like molten honey spiked with electricity, but not before he felt the hot splash of Steve’s release inside him, the welling warmth as his cum filled him up. Then everything tensed up in both of them, like a continuous wave rolling through the circuit that was their connected bodies. Panting and thrusting, they rode the wave together until they gradually slowed to stillness, lips sliding over each other, hands petting softly, hips moving in smaller and smaller arcs.

Steve turned and placed a sweet kiss on Bucky’s cheek, and rested his cheek against Bucky’s.

“Wha’ was tha’ for?” Bucky asked sluggishly.

“F’r bein’ you. F’r bein’ here,” Steve answered, equally affected. A slow smile spread across his features. “Y’ready t’follow Captain America outta the closet?” he quipped, the smile morphing into a grin.

“Hell no,” Bucky answered, a smirk rising to answer Steve’s grin. “That little guy from Brooklyn who never knew how to back down – who never gave up on me – tha’s who I’m followin’. The man I love.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked dopily, his eyes betraying what a monumental sap he was. Just like Bucky.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s stomach decided that was a good time to let its presence be known, and it let out a loud gurgle and complaint. “Especially if you feed me. I want pizza.”

“Pizza.”

“Yeah. I wanna feed you pizza in bed, and lick sauce off your tits. Maybe wrap your dick in stringy cheese and pull it off with my tongue. 

“Well, that’s an … interesting proposition. I’ve never had food eaten off of me before.”

“Yeah, and it’s gotta be Brooklyn pizza. None of this new century gluten-free shit. Crispy thin crust, fresh-made sauce with chunks o’tomato, ooey-gooey cheese that stretches and stretches till it falls in your lap – and I get to eat it off’a ya. Whadya say, Cap? Are y’good enough to eat?” Bucky asked, making a show of licking his lips and looking Steve up and down like he was a prime rack of beef.

“I think hunger is making you stupid,” Steve said simply. “The last thing I want is cheese stuck to my pubes. Ugh. But pizza sounds good.”

“And beer. I don’t care if we can’t get drunk, I like the taste of pizza and beer.”

“We didn’t get much o’that back in the day – you been cheatin’ on me already?”

“I admit it. I am a slut for a good slice. Stark really knows how to dial takeout. He knows how to get me where I live. I’ve raided his lab more than once, and snagged my share of pie and brew. Plus, you know, adjustments,” he added, waggling his prosthetic fingers.

“You mean he orders in when he’s got you in for a tune-up.”

“Pretty much,” Bucky grinned at him.

“Got a favorite joint?”

“Santarpio’s?”

“That’s over in Brooklyn. Do they deliver this far into Manhattan?”

“Stark has Happy go pick it up,” Bucky shrugged.

Steve glanced toward the bedside clock and shook his head. “Well, it’s nearly midnight. We might not even be able to get any pizza this time of night.”

“I have faith in the power of your persuasion, baby. And this is New York. I hear it’s the city that never sleeps. You want more sex, you have to feed me. Extra cheese. Mushrooms. Sausage. Oh, and black olives. At least two pies for me. What’re you havin’? C’mon, put your Captain America voice to good use, and score me some pizza. ”

“Pretty sure that’s a misuse of the suit, Buck,” Steve groused as he slid out of bed and padded out of the room in his naked glory. 

Bucky leaned over in bed watching him go, enjoying the play of light on the firm skin sliding over lean muscle. He’d always found Steve attractive because, well, _Steve_. It was Steve’s inner light that attracted him first. But that didn’t prevent him from appreciating just how beautiful the body Steve had today was. Or how much strength and stamina he had, and just how good that could be. A part of Bucky wondered what it would be like to make love to Steve-that-was, but it didn’t consume him. He was pretty fucking happy with what he had. He flopped over onto his back, his head hanging down over the edge of the bed, and watched Steve move around in the living room as he found the number, called the pizza shop, and argued for a pizza feast to be delivered across the river to the tower. Oh-oh, he had his “Captain America is Disappointed in You” frown on. And there was the blush. Oh, this promised to be good.

As Steve clicked off his phone and stood there a moment, still frowning, Bucky rolled over and arranged himself on the bed, hair splayed artfully across the pillow, eyes closed, lips parted, and his hand lazily pulling at his soft cock. When Steve came back into the room, he was at half-mast and rising, and had added his metal hand to fondle his balls. Felt good. Felt even better when he felt the heat of Steve’s stare as he stood by the bed looking down at him.

“Y’couldn’t fuckin’ wait for me to get off the phone?” Steve growled, and boy, didn’t that do nice things to Bucky’s dick. He felt it twitch in response, a full-on hula by his Johnson. Fuck, he had it bad.

“You were gone too long,” Bucky said huskily, opening up his eyes and grinning at Steve. “Where’s my pizza?”

“On its way. But I gotta put on pants.”

“I think you miss the point of me eating food off your body, Rogers. You’re supposed to be naked. So I can eat other things.”

“I gotta meet the driver, Buck. Small matter of payment? Guy agreed to bring it over if I do a selfie with him. In uniform. With the shield. So, while you play with your dick, I gotta go be Captain America. So you can have pizza. Don’t you ever doubt I love you, jerk,” he grumbled as he went to the closet where the PR version of the suit lived. Unlike the combat suit, it was lighter weight, not reinforced, and didn’t contain the gadgets that allowed Steve to reach for the shield and have it come to him like a lovesick puppy. It was easier to withstand lights and crowds with the PR suit than with the combat version.

But it looked just as good, hugging that beautiful body in the best ways, emphasizing that taut little ass and hinting at the muscles that stretched for miles underneath. In the suit or out of it, Bucky couldn’t get enough. Would never get enough. But was definitely getting some.

“You’ll have to let me make it up to you,” he said suddenly, rolling over onto his stomach, enjoying a moment of friction against his hardening dick. He rutted a little against the sheets, but decided that was probably not his best move right now. “Lemme help,” he offered, swinging around and landing lightly on his feet, so he could saunter over to where Steve was tugging on the uniform. He had the pants pulled up and the tunic in place, but was fussing at the shoulder closure. “Goddamned grown-ass man, and you still can’t dress yourself properly,” Bucky observed, bringing the two edges together so the closure mechanism slid smoothly closed. He patted it down and laid his hands on Steve’s shoulder a moment, smiling at him. Then he dropped down to his knees, opened Steve’s fly, pulled out Steve’s dick, and deep-throated it before Steve could react.

“Buck! I gotta meet the delivery guy – “

“I can suck you off faster than it takes to make four pizzas and drive ‘em across the fuckin’ bridge.” And he went back to work to prove his point, reveling in the taste of Steve, the feel of his hardening cock on his tongue, the scent of Steve filling his nostrils and making his own dick sit up and take notice. He ignored his own erection in favor of getting Steve’s going.

“I ordered six,” Steve countered weakly, throwing his head back and letting go a low, gravelly moan as his fingers wound their way into Bucky’s hair. 

“Great, leftovers,” Bucky said, pulling off and mouthing at the tip, nibbling on the foreskin and swirling his tongue up under it to lick at the bulbous head of Steve’s dick. “Want you to fuck my mouth, baby. Let go, okay?” He looked up through the veil of his own eyelashes to see Steve staring down open-mouthed at him, the pink tip of his tongue swiping back and forth.

“Buck,” Steve breathed, his eyes dark and suddenly feral.

“Want you to,” Bucky told him huskily. He slid the foreskin back, kissed the tip and licked around under the ridge, then sucked the head back into his mouth where he rolled it around like a jawbreaker, keeping his mouth firmly closed around it. When Bucky surged forward to take more of Steve into his mouth, shoving the tip into his throat where he swallowed around it, Steve’s fingers tightened, causing Buck to moan around his dick. Next thing Bucky knew, Steve was thrusting hard and fast into his mouth, one hand pulling his hair, the other holding his face in place while his dick shoved in and out, balls slapping against Bucky’s chin. He was breathing through his nose as he softened his jaw to take more of Steve, pursing his lips around the shaft to make a tighter seal when he started sucking in earnest. His hands grabbed at Steve’s ass, keeping him upright as he thrust with greater and greater enthusiasm. 

“Jesus, fuck, Buck!” Steve swore, and Bucky grinned – well, in his head, because his lips were too busy to take time off for shit like that. He stroked his tongue against the underside of the dick, along the frenulum and down the thick protruding vein, rolling it back and forth as his lips clamped down around the silky smooth cock. Steve’s body ran hot, and his cock was no different. It felt like it was burning from within as it slid in and out of Bucky’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat, and then nearly pulling out on each stroke, leaving trails of fire everywhere it touched. He chased it with his lips, grabbed onto the shaft with his right hand and bobbed hard and fast for a couple of minutes, pulling the foreskin back further from the head, and stroking the lower part of the cock with his flesh fist. The foreskin moved smoothly back and forth under his grip, and he hoped his saliva from deep-throating the cock was enough to soothe the skin. They really needed to seed lube _everywhere_ in the apartment. 

Steve’s fingers twisted in his hair, and probably pulled out a few strands in the process. But the pain kept Bucky sharp, focused. Focused on sucking another mind-blowing orgasm out of Steve, messing up his pretty uniform, and sending him completely debauched and fucked out for his selfie with Pizza Guy.

“God, Buck, I’m – geeze, that mouth of yours! – I’m gonna, y’better –“

Bucky held on fiercely with both hands on Steve’s ass now, loosened his jaw further, opened up his throat to embrace that cock, and swallowed around it as it went deeper into his throat. It didn’t take much longer for his hard work to be rewarded, and the hot, bitter taste of cum flooded across the back of his tongue, down his throat, and across his palate. He sucked harder than ever, drawing every last drop out, wringing Steve dry. Then he nearly pulled off, holding just the tip in his mouth as he sucked, hard, his fingers playing with the foreskin like it was the stops on a flute. Steve’s pelvis started to settle into a quiet back and forth and finally stilled. The hand that had been tangled in his hair still, extricated itself, and smoothed his hair down and ran shakily down his face to cup first his cheek, and then his chin, to raise his face up to look up into those blue eyes, still dark with fading arousal.

Bucky balanced the head of Steve’s dick on the tip of his tongue, just under the frenulum. He looked up at Steve and smirked cockily around the tip, gave it one more kiss on the slit, sucked the foreskin into his mouth and pulled it back over the head, and then stood in one smooth movement, tucking Steve back into his uniform, and doing up the fly.

“What’re y’standin’ here for, punk? Y’got pizzas to pick up.”

Buck was sure that Steve’s intent was to give him an “if looks could kill” glare, but the dazed look, combined with the flushed skin, slack mouth, and dark eyes just said, “just fucked,” instead. Bucky’s smile widened proudly.

“Go get ‘im, tiger, my great provider,” Bucky told him, and sauntered into the bathroom, shamelessly wiggling his ass as he did.

“Goddamned fucking jerk,” Steve swore, not under his breath, and swatted Bucky’s ass before storming out of the bedroom, muttering.

As Buck brushed his teeth and washed out his mouth, he basked in the warmth of a job well done. And his own erection was doing just fine, thank you very much. He’d have time to rub one out while Steve did his little show and tell for Pizza Guy.

So where was he? Oh yeah. Fourteen, with fifteen coming up with his hand, and he definitely had plans for sixteen. And the suit. With pizza.

&&&

By the time Steve got back from collecting their pizzas, he was grumpy and horny again. Which, when he thought about it was really kinda stupid, considering how many times he and Buck had had sex in the past 12 hours or so. Mind-blowing, monumentally amazing sex. Not bad for a virgin and a guy who’d never made it with another guy before. He guessed Buck was able to transfer his experience with dames, er, women, but women didn’t have man-parts like cocks and balls, yet Bucky gave head like a pro. He could still feel the zing in his sac from that last blow job. Wow.

He’d thought maybe Buck was becoming a sex monster, a cockslut, but fact was, he was, too. He loved the feel of Bucky in his arms, up his ass, around his dick, in his mouth, heavy in his hand and filling him with cum. 

And now they were talking marriage. Shit, they were talking marriage, and not even 24 hours ago, Bucky wouldn’t even talk to him, wouldn’t let him see him. God forbid, let him touch him. He was grateful for the change, but would it last? Or was this like some kinda crazy drug-induced dream, and when it wore off, everything would go back to the way it was? Only harder, more painful, because he’d have the memory of these hours, this intimacy, this overpowering love and attraction?

He’d have to hope not. He’d have to make sure not. He was a stubborn cuss, 95 pounds or 240, and he had what he’d always wanted. He’d be damned if he was giving it up now.

He loved Bucky. And Bucky loved him. And they’d agreed to get married. Which meant he was going to have to come out as not straight. He had no idea how people would react. Oh, the Fox News talking heads would have all kinds of things to say, and all of it would be nasty and poisonous, and he didn’t give a flying fuck what they thought. They’d been using his name and image for years to justify their pernicious brand of political bullying. It would actually feel really fucking good to come out and rub their faces in, “Captain America is done with your shit.”

It would be worth it to have Buck by his side, to not have to hide how they felt about each other. To have a proper wedding – small, just friends, at the Municipal Building, like proper Brooklynites. To wear rings they picked out for each other. To think about maybe having a real place of their own. To maybe think about putting down the shield?

He was getting ahead of himself. Being married to his best friend didn’t mean that Captain America stopped being needed.

But maybe he had to find a better balance. He had someone to come home to. That meant he had to make sure he came home in one piece. Someone whose feelings he was responsible for. And maybe that meant that Cap needed to dial back. 

It was a scary thought to imagine himself as just Steve Rogers again, and not Cap. Who was Steve Rogers these days? Not an art student any longer, not the professional artist he’d aspired to be. Not a military strategist – no one seemed to understand the serum had enhanced his faculties, too, and he’d planned a significant number of successful military campaigns during the war, not just Howling Command missions. 

Maybe the campaign he needed to plan was a life after war.

He smiled to himself as the elevator slid to a smooth stop, and he called out a thank you to Jarvis as he stepped off the elevator balancing six large pizza boxes. The scent was intoxicating, and his stomach growled with hunger. Pizza and beer. Two Brooklyn boys who loved each other, sharing pizza and beer.

And sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex.

This was a life that he could get used to, he told himself, as he opened the apartment’s front door and found himself juggling a stack of hot pizza boxes in one hand, and an armful of naked James Buchanan Barnes in the other.

This was his life now. And as Bucky planted a tongue-laden, filthy kiss on his lips, liberated the pizza boxes, then danced away, his dick bobbing and twitching as he did, he didn’t have any complaints. Except that rat bastard was making off with all of the pizzas! And where the hell was he heading?

Oh. The guest room. They hadn’t christened that room yet. He started to tug at the shoulder closure of the suit, feeling his dick swell at the thought of what they might do in that bedroom, when he heard Bucky shout, “And don’t you dare take off the suit – I have plans for it! Get your tight ass in here, Rogers! Or I’m startin’ without you!”

Steve sprinted to the guest room, eager to find out what Bucky had planned.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is already in the works. Prepare for more heat, Steve and Bucky style.
> 
> Still considering suggestions, but not for much longer. We really are on the home stretch, I'm just having too much fun writing this to give it up.
> 
> You don't mind, do you?
> 
> Hit me up with comments!


	15. I'm Gonna Take You Higher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a little food, a little sex between super soldier boyfriends?
> 
> This one is just for fun. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know where this chapter came from. I think I've got all the logistics working properly, and I don't have extra hands where they don't belong. But if you find a glaring error, let me know. This chapter is born entirely from my overactive imagination. I kinda love the idea of caretaking interspersed with hot sex with these guys.
> 
> Oh, and in the last chapter, Santarpio's? Not a real restaurant in Brooklyn as far as I know. But it was - and may still be - a fixture in East Boston, MA where I used to live. It was run by the family of Mike Eruzione, one of the 1980 US Olympic hockey dream team. Not a hockey fan, really, but in 1980 when that team played the Russians, every American became a hockey fan. It's just a nod to a dim and distant past.

Steve rarely used the guest room. Sam had his own floor now that he was a part-time Avenger, and Steve didn’t really have any other friends who weren’t part of the team. 

Huh. He had never really put it that way before. Maybe it really _was_ time for some serious reevaluating of his life.

In any case, it was always made up for visitors, but rarely used. He’d hoped that Bucky would take the room when he brought him back to the tower, but except for using it as a way station for gifts of clothes and supplies, the room had remained unoccupied.

Not so now. As Steve came up to the doorway, he could see the stack of pizza boxes piled up on one side of the bed, and a bucket full of ice studded with bottles of beer sitting on the floor on the other. 

Buck – still gloriously naked – was kneeling on the bed practically … well, fellating a slice of pizza, the crust folded and the point dripping cheese, sauce and toppings being lowered into his open mouth, tongue wrapping around the dripping cheese … and yes, he was tugging at his cock, the shaft glistening with what he hoped was lube and not pizza grease – did he smell grapes – flavored lube? The head was dark and swollen as it appeared and disappeared into Bucky’s fist.

Oh. That was just … yeah. Steve could feel the swelling between his legs, the way his breath caught a little at the sight. Bucky was hedonistically beautiful. 

But he hadn’t waited for Steve, either on the pizza or on the sex. And that just wasn’t fuckin’ fair!

“You fuckin’ started without me!”

“’S’hungry!” Bucky protested, sliding a huge portion of oozing pizza into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he practically choked on it. His face grew red as he chewed furiously.

“Take your hands off the pizza, and your hand off your dick, Barnes. That’s a goddamned order, Sergeant!”

And whoa, did Bucky’s dick perk up at that. Right, noted for later. Sergeant Barnes has an authority kink. But it was one that Steve would navigate carefully, because he didn’t want to encroach on Bucky’s agency in the process. So a part of him was gratified when Buck gave him a pizza-filled grin, swallowed the mess in his mouth, and deliberately took another gargantuan bite. All while stroking his dick lazily.

“I gave you an order, Sergeant,” Steve tried again, standing at parade rest a few feet away from the bed where Buck’s hips swayed back and forth as he fondled himself.

“Not the boss of me,” Bucky grumbled. “Gotta hot metabolism – need to keep it stoked. Especially if you’re gonna fuck me again.”

“Might not. Maybe that’s your punishment.”

“Yours, too, then. You sure you wanna deny yourself this?” he asked, waving toward his naked ass – an ass where Steve could see the telltale gleam of lube on his crack and dribbled down behind his balls.

“Did you, um, did you prep yourself for me?” 

“Still kinda loose from before, but yeah,” Bucky agreed, wiggling his ass for Steve. “Figured I didn’t need to waste time with a butt plug.” Steve felt heat run through his veins and shoot up his dick, and he knew his face – and his crotch – betrayed his growing interest when Bucky did a slow burn smirk at him. “Duly noted, _Captain_.”

There was going to be a butt plug in his future. Toys. They hadn’t gotten to toys, yet, and he didn’t feel the need to divert to them right now. Because right now, he wanted to be buried to the hilt in that gorgeous ass that was bouncing from side to side as Buck polished off the last of that slice of pizza, still stroking gently at his cock.

“You’re too far away,” Bucky said, reaching for the bottle of beer he had sitting on the bedside table. He took a swig and considered Steve critically for a moment, holding the bottle in his mouth like he was going down on it. He smirked at Steve , then set the bottle down again. “You need to get over here where I can put my hands on you. My hands and my mouth. My ass. All o’me. C’mon baby – I gotta touch you.”

Steve stumbled forward, fingers automatically going to the shoulder closure again, and Buck shook his head. “Uh-uh-uh. Leave it on. I’m in charge of undressing you, baby.” When Steve was close enough, Bucky reached out and snagged him by the waistband of his suit, dragging him closer as Buck shuffled forward on the bed. Suddenly he could feel the heat of him through the suit as they pressed together from knee to chest and Bucky kissed him again, wet, wanton, and tasting of tomatoes, cheese, and oregano. Steve’s hands flew to Bucky’s hair, digging in and wrapping it around his fingers as he held Bucky’s face to his, returning the kiss with enthusiasm.

Bucky shifted back slightly, creating space between them, air between their lips. Steve whined. “Get on the bed, baby. Got a nice nest of pillows all ready for ya – make yourself comfortable. Lemme take care of ya,” Bucky cajoled gently. And Steve followed his orders, climbing up on the bed, scooting back to rest against the pillows – every free pillow in the apartment, and maybe some more from someplace Steve didn’t know. 

When he was settled, Bucky looked down at him, smiling fondly. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he breathed fervently. “Look at you – you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Steve. I love you so fuckin’ much, I feel like I could die from it. And here you are.” Then Bucky calmly straddled Steve, resting gently on his pelvis while he arranged a napkin on Steve’s chest, dragged one of the pizza boxes closer, took a moment to select the best slice of the plain pizza inside, and then presented it, point first, crust folded in half, just an inch or so from Steve’s lips.

Steve looked at the pizza, then up at Bucky’s face, open and earnest in his love for Steve. This felt like it was an important moment somehow. He wasn’t sure why, but he treated it with all the gravity he felt it deserved, and extended his neck so that he could take a delicate bite of the pizza. It was delicious, just the right combination of spices in the sauce, real cheese, and a buttery crust. He chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. As he worked his way through the slice, he took larger bites, earning him an encouraging smile from Bucky, and so he added sound effects – “mmm-mmm,” and “so good.” And by the time he’d eaten most of the slice, he’d reached Buck’s fingers holding the crust. And he licked them, sucking each one into his mouth to clean all the grease and sauce away. As his lips slid away from Bucky’s thumb, Bucky asked, “Want the crust baby? Or are you ready for another slice?”

“’nother slice,” he agreed softly, settling back to lick his lips. Bucky took the napkin and dabbed it at the corners of his mouth, wiping his chin gently. He settled back on his heels braced on either side of Steve’s hips, and smiled down at him. “Sip o’beer?” Steve nodded, and the bottle, cold and weeping with condensation, was immediately offered to him. He wrapped his lips around the bottle opening, and Bucky tipped it up gently so Steve could drink his fill. His eyes never left Bucky’s, never eclipsed the heat that passed between them. He nodded, and Bucky put the bottle back on the table next to his own.

“Same again, or wanna try one of mine?”

“One o’yours.”

“Good boy,” Bucky murmured, and Steve felt warmth blossom inside, radiating out to his hands and feet, suffusing his face. He smiled up at Bucky beatifically.

But Bucky didn’t immediately pick out another slice of pizza. Instead, he shifted position so he could reach the fly on Steve’s suit. Deftly, he pulled down the zipper, pulled the sides away, and slipped his flesh hand into Steve’s trousers. His fingers, still warm and soft from handling the pizza, curled around Steve’s dick and gave it a gentle squeeze. Steve was nearly full hard, and Buck stroked him for a minute until he was a rock. Then he balanced Steve’s dick against his ass, lifted up, positioned the head, and slid down. 

Steve opened his mouth and let out a silent cry, his eyes locked on Buck’s as he took all of Steve’s cock in one go.

“So good, baby. You feel so good. You’re so good to me,” he muttered as he shifted back and forth against Steve’s cock, letting Steve feel the hot, velvety smoothness of his ass traveling over the sensitive skin of Steve’s cock. “You always feel so good,” Bucky reassured him, smoothing his hand over Steve’s chest, still completely clothed. In fact, the only part of Steve that was naked right now was his dick, buried to the hilt in Bucky’s ass.

It shouldn’t feel so hot, but it did. Bucky smirked at him as he leaned over to pick out another piece of pizza, letting Steve feel the stretch and the clench as he did so. Then he straightened up, folded the slice in half, and held it out to Steve. Steve lifted his head and took a bite, and felt Bucky’s asshole tighten around him as he rocked back and forth, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. One bite became two, then three, and he was working his way through the entire slice, enjoying the different textures and flavors of sausage, mushroom, extra cheese, black olives. Everything tasted more, everything felt more as Bucky fed him while gently riding his cock. Another sip of beer, a pat of the napkin.

“Let me,” Steve breathed when Bucky went to select another slice. “Let me feed you.”

Bucky nodded eagerly and bent so that his chest rested against Steve’s, his face turned to the side so Steve could feed him bite after delicate bite of his loaded pie. Bucky grinned at him around the cheese, then swallowed and kissed Steve deeply, tongues sliding over and around each other, sharing flavors that burst upon Steve’s tongue. He couldn’t remember food ever tasting so good, so intense as it tasted fed to him by Bucky, or on Bucky’s tongue. He finished feeding Bucky the pizza slice, and then Bucky straightened, settling his hands on Steve’s uniformed pecs as he picked up the pace, fucking himself energetically on Steve’s dick, squeezing with his anus muscles, pressing in with his thigh muscles, as his dick bobbed and slapped against his own abdomen, leaving a shiny, sticky trail of pre-cum. And when he had Steve to the point of cumming, he stopped suddenly, settled back comfortably on his pelvis, and reached over to grab another slice to feed Steve.

“Buck – Buck, what the fuck? I’m almost there –“ Steve gasped, his abdominal muscles working feverishly to support his aborted orgasm.

“Not yet, baby. C’mon, eat up. Make you big and strong,” Bucky grinned slyly.

“Y’know I always hated it when people said that to me. Like fuckin’ spinach was gonna make me taller.”

“Or that cod liver oil you used to take all the time. S’posed to make your muscles grow. Snake oil, more like it. Made your farts smell like fish, and half the time you heaved it back up again. Stinky at both ends,” Bucky chuckled, nodding to Steve to take another bite.

“You’re gonna make me wait, aren’t you, Buck,” Steve said with a sinking certainty as he chewed the pizza.

“It’ll be worth it in the end baby. We each finish a pie, we get to cum. Deal?” Bucky ground down on Steve, earning him a huff and a drawn out groan.

“Bring it on, Barnes. You fuckin’ punk, bring it the fuck _on_.”

In the end, they each polished off two pizzas, goading each other to push each other further and further. Bucky brought them both to the precipice again and again, then stopped, dropping into the domestic routine of feeding and eating. Then he’d start up again, bringing Steve nearly to tears with the desire to cum. And again he back off. They’d been at it nearly an hour, Steve thought – he couldn’t see straight enough to read the bedside clock. He only knew that that last piece of pizza had been cool, the cheese starting to congeal. Still tasty, but not right out of the oven. _And he fucking needed to cum_.

He was aching by the time Bucky polished off the last slice of his second pie and drained his third beer. He was sure Buck felt the same way from the almost relieved sigh he let out as he tossed the crust aside. Steve was panting like he’d run multiple marathons, and Bucky was practically heaving with every breath. Both of them were cherry red, coated in a sheen of sweat, kiss-swollen lips parted and eyes dark with lust. Bucky’s cock was dark and swollen, weeping a steady drool of pre-cum, smeared across his abdomen and pooled on Steve’s suit. No question about it, the suit would need major cleaning.

But they weren’t done yet. Bucky took Steve’s hand and wrapped it around his own dick, closing his own metal fingers around Steve’s flesh ones. Holding Steve’s attention with the intensity of his gaze, he guided Steve’s hand to start jerking him off, as he started to lift himself up and plunge back down on Steve’s cock. Bucky never broke eye contact as he impaled himself on Steve, nearly lifted off, and did it all over again.

Steve loved the feel of the hot, hard flesh in his hand, loved the sensation of the pulse beating through it, the soft, satiny skin as his hand skimmed over it, aided by a thin coating of lube. Loved the feel of Bucky’s metal fingers pressing into his, the cool slickness of the metal a sensory counterpoint to the hot flesh of Bucky’s dick. Bucky’s cock was different from his, cut from infancy, the mushroom-shaped head always on display. He slid his thumb through the beads of pre-cum collecting in the slit, watched Bucky struggle for a few seconds to keep his eyes open as the pleasure lanced through him. Steve swiped his tongue across his lips, swallowed in a mouth suddenly gone dry. There was nothing in this world more beautiful than the site of Bucky Barnes pleasuring himself on Steve’s cock. He’d fight anyone who claimed different.

And God, it took war, torture, ice, and aliens to bring them to this point. They’d earned this, this closeness, this pleasure. This love.

He could feel himself starting to crest, the tightness in his balls heralding his orgasm. Bucky seemed to be in the same condition, and Steve could see Bucky’s sac visibly firm up, ready to spill its load. Bucky suddenly lifted himself up and pulled off, causing Steve to practically weep at the loss of friction, of heat, of the tight, womb-link channel of Bucky’s ass. Then Bucky’s flesh hand closed over Steve’s dick, jerking it hard and fast and goddamned perfect. If his gaze wasn’t still locked with Bucky’s, his eyes would have rolled back in his head, this felt so fucking good. He picked up speed on Buck’s cock, and now the room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, their grunts and ooh-oooh-ooohs and uh-uh-uhs as they each drove each other closer to the final edge.

“C’mon baby,” Bucky urged. “Come on. Come for me, paint me all up, mark me – ev’rybody’ll know who I belong to, I’m yours, Steve, always yours, come _on_ –“

Gout after gout of ropey white cum spurted out of his dick, coating Bucky’s hand, catching Bucky’s chin, his crotch, his abdomen, spattering against the fabric of Steve’s suit. It seemed like it would never end, as he felt it pumping out of him, relief and blinding pleasure all wrapped up together as Bucky kept pumping his hand, milking Steve’s cock for every drop.

Then he felt a subtle shift in Bucky’s cock, a tightening, a tensing, and it started to blow its load, and like him, it just kept on going. He kept stroking, kept fucking his fist over his cock. He felt droplets hit his lips, his eyelids, his chin, and saw more land across his chest and down his abdomen, pooling on the fabric.

His whole body tensed as he lifted his ass off the bed, carrying Bucky upward with him as Buck arched his back and nearly touched his head to his heels. The site of that gorgeous flesh stretched out like that, the look of bliss and satiation on his face, triggered another geyser of cum to spit out of his dick. Bucky’s cock answered with a blurt of cum welling out of the slit, trembling on the tip before it slid down over his fist. He slowed his hand and gently circled the head, squeezing slightly the ease any further drops out, shaking it slightly to drip dry.

Bucky was petting his cock, and he half-expected to hear Bucky name it. A giggle started then, bubbling out of his chest and into the air that was heavy with the scent of sex.

“Wha’so funny?” Bucky asked dreamily, stroking the head of Steve’s cock with the palm of his hand, using his thumb to push back the foreskin.

“It ain’t a dog, Buck. You don’t have to pet it,” he nodded toward his dick in Bucky’s hand.

“’S’my favorite pet. I love it. Stevie’s dick. I shall call it … I dunno, I have t’think ‘bout this – s’important. I love the feel of it in my hand. My ass, too, but I like this,” he added, stroking softly. Then he bent down and placed a kiss on the tip. “S’a keeper, this.”

“Y’wanna keep my dick.”

“Always,” he straightened again. “S’long as I get the rest of you, too,” he added, his gaze turning serious. “Love you, punk.”

“Love you, too, jerk. Now lemme get outta this rig – ‘s’gonna need serious cleaning. And I really need to touch you.”

Bucky nodded and unseated himself, releasing Steve from the embrace of his thighs. “Always wanted to fuck you in the outfit. Th’original one, your USO chorus girl getup. This’ll do.”

“Been thinkin’ about this that long, huh?”

“Always, Rogers. Always. Now get outta that and I’ll clean us up. We gotta lot of naked cuddling to catch up on.” Bucky waggled his eyebrows suggestively while Steve just grinned stupidly.

Stupid boys in love. There were worse fates.

Bucky turned to grab the pizza boxes to take them out to the kitchen, while Steve started undoing the fastenings on the suit. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve called as he stripped out of the shirt. “How many’s that?”

“Sixteen. I jerked off while you were playing with the pizza delivery guy.” At Steve’s mock=-stern glare, Bucky protested, “Hey, I got you off, and I was startin’ to hurt, I was so hard. You were gone a long time. We’re even!”

Sixteen. Just how high did Bucky wanna go? 

Steve grinned to himself as he acknowledged he was in it for the long haul. Til the end of the line and anywhere Bucky Barnes wanted to lead him.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter ... requests. It's probably going to take me a few days to pull that together,and I anticipate it will be a long chapter. I'm going to have to contain my excitement about posting until it's really done. 
> 
> After that, the final chapter I wrote almost 18 months ago. And then ... an epilogue. One just presented itself to me, and I think it's just perfect. :)
> 
> You know the drill!


	16. I Was Made for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Steve and Bucky Pornathon continues with audience requests.
> 
> And the chapter count just went up by one again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I thought this was going to be the last big porn chapter. This bit o'porn took more out of me than I expected, and went in a direction I wasn't anticipating. More on that in the end notes.

The suit was pretty nasty with cum, sticky and stiff where it had already dried. He really didn’t feel like explaining to Pepper the reason he couldn’t wear the nice reproduction she’d had made especially for him was because he and Buck jacked off all over it, so he excused himself from a pouty and very, very sexy looking Bucky so he could toss the damned thing in the wash so it didn’t get any worse. Balancing fear of Pepper vs. lust for Bucky … it was a near thing, but fear of Pepper won out, this time at least.

When he got back to the guest room, he had to stop in the doorway, grab hold of the base of his suddenly rock-hard dick, and squeeze hard to keep from blowing his load right there.

Bucky was laying across the bed, one leg stretched out, the other bent, foot on the bed. He lazily tugged at his dick, which was already hard and leaking against his stomach, his balls nicely firm and tight. Jesus, how fast Steve had become a slut for Bucky’s dick – he could write odes to the damned thing, he wanted to draw and paint the thing on the side of buildings, and damn if he didn’t want it in his mouth, up his ass, in his hand. All heat and coiled tension, the most visceral part of Bucky. And he could have it.

Bucky’s eyes were closed and his lips were parted, a faint smile curving up the corners as he stroked himself with his flesh hand, and toyed with his nipples with his metal one. And if that didn’t do it for Steve, he didn’t know what did. Except maybe having that gorgeous metal finger shoved up his ass, stroking his prostate ‘til he came screaming … ungh. Just looking at Buck inspired such thoughts. Plans. Promises. They were going to do all those things. And so much more. Together. But for now, Buck had hung his head over the edge of the bed so his long hair fell straight from his head, shining in the dim light and looking touchably soft, gently pleasuring himself. 

“I can hear you thinkin’ over there,” he said in a voice like bourbon and honey. “Get your cute little tushie over here so I can suck on that patriotic cock, doll. I _need_ it,” he added with a little whine, and damn, if he didn’t shake his damned fine ass, wriggling on the bed.

If Steve was hard before, he was adamantine now. He didn’t even remember crossing the room, but now he was standing next to the bed, his cock jutting out and leaking, foreskin drawn back to reveal the gleaming purple head, and Buck opened his eyes and grinned up at him. Reaching over his head, he curved his hands around Steve’s knees, and tugged him closer. “Feed it to me, baby.”

Oh God! A blurt of pre-cum bubbled out of the slit and dripped onto Bucky’s upper lip, and he lapped it up hungrily. 

“Mmmm. I need more of that,” he purred, his hands petting up and down the back of Steve’s thighs, his fingers warm and insistent, tugging him closer.

“I, uh, how do you –“ Steve asked awkwardly, still holding his dick in his hand.

Bucky lifted his head and grinned filthily at him, glancing hungrily at the hard prick curving in Steve’s hand. “Stick it in my mouth for me. Give it to me. Feed it to me, I’m so hungry for it. Lemme have your cock, baby,” he added, snaking out his tongue to trace the thick vein as much as he was able.

Oh. _Oh God_. They might be new at this, clumsy and unpracticed, and he might be fighting a giggle bubbling up from his chest. But Buck just kept on finding Steve’s triggers, his hot buttons. And Bucky talking dirty to him? _Yeah_. He felt breathless for how turned on he was.

Bending at the knees, Steve pushed his dick down, then slid his fingers up to hold the head. More pre-cum pulsed out of it as he pushed the head toward Buck’s open mouth, his tongue flattened and waiting. And then Bucky’s lips closed around the head and he _sucked_. Steve’s hips jerked forward chasing the sensation as Bucky’s hands slid up the curve of his ass, fingers digging into the meat there, pressing him forward so his dick eased further into Bucky’s mouth. He could feel the pressure of Buck swallowing around him, and he was suddenly panting, a whine bubbling out of him as he felt his abdominals clench. He had to bend over, like a wire suddenly pulled him forward, and he hit the edge of the bed with his fists to hold himself up as Bucky continued to suck, lick, and swallow him whole.

Groaning, he shuffled forward a little to get his feet under him, then looked up to see Bucky’s cock, thick, hard, and angry-looking red, bobbing and twitching above his abdomen. He was cross-eyed with want, and immediately bent over further to take Bucky’s cock deep in his mouth, pressing his nose into the wiry hair of his groin as he sucked. He extended his arms so he could grasp Bucky’s ankles, his hands petting the strong line of his powerful legs, ghosting over the trembling muscles of his thighs, pulling his legs apart and up, arranging them over his head, where Bucky crossed them to hold Steve’s face in his crotch.

He pulled off Bucky’s dick, and nosed at his balls, sucking one into his mouth and rolling it around gently, then releasing it to lave the other. He was getting used to the feel of hair in his mouth, but he honestly didn’t like it. They were going to have to talk about manscaping later – probably much later as he flicked out his tongue to probe at the underside of Bucky’s balls, his perineum. Steve smoothed his hands under Bucky’s ass, feeling the plush swell of flesh, warm and vibrant against his palms. Then he stood up quickly, bringing Buck with him, Steve’s face buried in Bucky’s groin, Steve’s cock buried in Bucky’s mouth. He felt a nudge of teeth as Bucky was surprised by the sudden change in position, but then he groaned against Steve’s dick, sending shockwaves up the sensitive flesh as he clamped his arms around the top of Steve’s thighs to hold himself in place. Bucky pulled off abruptly, long enough to say, “This is the hottest fuckin’ thing, baby!” and then plunged back in to tighten his lips around Steve’s dick, and bob his head at a fierce pace.

Steve felt like he was going to explode right then and there, it was so good. He licked along the length of Bucky’s dick, hot and hard against his cheek, then pulled back and flicked his tongue over the leaking slit, earning him a high-pitched whine from Buck as he paused to suck and roll the head of Steve’s dick around in his mouth. Then he went back to bobbing back and forth, even faster than before. Steve opened his mouth and dove down Bucky’s cock, feeling it hit the back of his throat, sending a wave of pre-cum drooling along his tongue. He started taking long, tight-lipped pulls at Bucky’s cock, his tongue swirling around the shaft as he moved forward and back.

Steve shifted his feet to center himself, suddenly dizzy with sensation as Bucky worked him over with his mouth, his hands shifting to knead at Steve’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart and exposing his crack. Steve felt Bucky’s thumbs stroking over the sensitive flesh, ghosting over his hole, pressing into the tender skin of his perineum, fingers teasing at the back of his balls. Steve’s hands moved to mirror Bucky’s as he pressed his face into Bucky’s groin, breathing in the rich, clean scent of him as his dick bumped at the back of his throat again. He swallowed, and drew the cock a little deeper. Buck groaned again, and Steve smiled to himself, as well as he could with a mouth full of Bucky. For two fellas who’d never done this before, they were getting pretty good. Or at least managed to do what the other liked, and maybe that was all that mattered. And Steve knew that he had a favorite new thing – Bucky’s cock. Any way he could have it.

Buck’s fingers were swirling gently around the perimeter of his hole, petting at the muscle there to relax it, make it pliable and loose. It was weird that he could pinpoint that sensation in the assault of pleasure from Bucky sucking him, his hands stroking over his flesh, and the taste, smell, and feel of Bucky in his mouth, his nose, his hands. Suddenly a finger breached and slid in, and Bucky continued to stroke gently, sliding it in and out, moving it around. Steve’s ass felt warm and relaxed, a slight burn just making it feel that much better. His dick … well, Bucky’s mouth was magic, that’s all. Tongue flicking through his slit, making him want to blow right then. Lips dragging along the length of it, just an edge of teeth … oh, God, Steve could die like this. Death by Bucky Barnes’s mouth.

Yeah, Steve Rogers could die like this. But then he’d miss out on what was to come.

He shifted slightly to drop Buck’s ass a little so he could get at his hole with his tongue. Bucky’s cock slid across his shoulder, nestling against his cheek as he craned his neck to lick from tip to base, around his balls, back along his perineum, and then flat across his hole. Bucky, well, bucked at that, clearly not expecting Steve to try that. But he’d been wanting to, all night, since they started fucking against each other in the lobby outside his apartment. He wanted to taste every inch of Buck, wanted to get his tongue on him, _in_ him, just like he needed to feel flesh. 

He didn’t want any secrets, no barriers. No powers, or serums (except to let them keep cumming and cumming!), no supervillains, no spy organizations or international panels. Just Steve and Bucky, the way it was always supposed to be. Naked and fucking each other’s brains out.

His own spit smeared all over his chin, lips, and nose as he licked at Buck’s ass, tongue stroking over the soft furled pucker. He probed at the hole with the tip of his tongue, an almost hysterical giggle rising up at the thought of having Buck at the tip of his tongue. Then he shifted forward and buried his face in Buck’s ass, shoving his tongue against the muscle, feeling it flutter and give, and then his tongue was inside, hot, tight, velvety, as he pushed and prodded deeper. He tasted of soap and lube (it was grape flavored!), a little earthy, a little sweet. He knew he was limited in how far his tongue would reach, but that didn’t stop him from trying to go deeper still. Buck wriggled in his arms, shoving back against his tongue at the same time Steve felt his own hips starting to move. 

He shuffled forward and managed to plant a knee on the bed, then the other, still holding Bucky upside down against him. He cradled the back of Bucky’s head in the palm of one hand, while he held Bucky’s ass against his shoulder with the other. Braced and balanced, he lowered Buck to the bed. Bucky’s hands clamped down hard on his ass and the top of his thighs, and suddenly Steve felt himself being flipped on to his back. He turned his head slightly and opened his mouth, and Bucky’s cock slid into his mouth and into the back of his throat. He coughed around it, shifted his head back a little to breathe, and started sucked for all he was worth. Bucky lifted his head off his dick, took a couple of deep, raspy breaths, and plunged down again. 

The way Bucky’s balls were tightening as they nudged against Steve’s nose, he could tell that Buck was getting close. He could feel his own orgasm starting ignite along his nerve endings. Bucky started to thrust into his throat, and Steve felt his hips lift off the bed and prod into Bucky’s throat. It was uncoordinated and heartfelt, but Steve didn’t just want to deep throat Buck – he wanted to control his blow job. He tapped Buck’s ass twice and held on as he shifted onto his side, Bucky’s beautiful body stretched out alongside him, one leg crooked so he could reach between and behind his long, gorgeous legs. Now he could position his own body to get a good angle to worship Buck’s cock, his balls, that amazing ass. And the new angle seemed to be working for Bucky, as he fondled Steve’s balls with his metal hand, sucked enthusiastically at Steve’s tip, nibbling at the sensitive skin of his foreskin, while his flesh hand worked the shaft over. It was a little dry and maybe burned a little, but the burn just fed into the building pleasure that threatened to overwhelm Steve’s senses.

Steve wrapped his right hand over Bucky’s left ass cheek, letting his fingers pinch the skin, then smoothe over it with a gentle petting motion. His fingers ranged over Bucky’s crack again, stroking over the hole, and he let his thumb dip into it, pushing past the muscle to ease in and out. Then Steve withdrew it to slide his middle finger in, reaching for Bucky’s prostate, and finding the little mound of nerves on his third try. When he found it, he brushed his finger back and forth as he tightened his lips around Bucky’s shaft and pulled back, tongue pressing into the frenulum, then slipping through the steady stream of pre-cum leaking from his slit. Bucky jerked and whined, his hips snapping to thrust deep into Steve’s mouth. Steve pulled his finger out and pushed back in with two to resume his attentions to the prostate gland. Bucky’s hips started to move in time with his fingers, pressing back against the fingers, shoving forward into Steve’s mouth.

Bucky had three metal fingers up Steve’s ass by now, moving them in and out with sharp, forceful motions. They’d warmed to blood heat, but the rigid surface was a little weird as they plunged into his ass then drew back, only to do it again. It felt … well, it felt amazing, like the sex was going to split him in two, ripping him right up the middle so he’d never stop feeling this incredible marriage of intrusion and completeness. Steve felt his orgasm coiling down his spine like summer lightning, hot, fierce, and untamable. Buck’s head was bobbing just as fiercely, and Steve could hear the slurp, choke, slap of hands, mouth, and cock.

Steve added another finger to his assault on Bucky’s prostate, earning him a rising whine and a hard thrust into his mouth. He pulled off suddenly, feeling the drooling cock smear spit and pre-cum along his cheek as he called out to Bucky, “Lube?”

Buck’s flesh hand pulled away from Steve’s cock, and he immediately missed the warmth and pressure of the hand. He heard and felt Bucky patting around the sheets, and felt the grunt of satisfaction jolt up his dick when Bucky found the lube. He pulled off Steve dick entirely, letting it curve toward the bed, drooling into the sheets as Bucky flicked open the lube and drizzled a cool stream of it into his asshole and down his crack, then poured out a large dollop into his palm before shoving the bottle toward Steve. Then Bucky’s metal fingers were back in Steve’s ass, his flesh hand was back pumping his cock, and his mouth was deliciously tight around the head of Steve’s dick. Everything felt smoother with the added lube, Bucky’s fingers driving deeper into him, spreading him wider as his fingers scissored and twisted inside him.

Steve wanted to just let his eyes roll back into his skull so he just just hang on and let Bucky ravage his body. Again and again.

Steve pulled off then, squeezed out a generous blob of lube, and smeared it around his fingers and over his palm. He pressed back into Bucky’s hole with three fingers, swished them around to coat the channel in lube, stroking his finger in and out, keeping them moving in time with Bucky’s own fingers fucking in and out of him, which was at the same pace of Steve’s own thrust in and out of Bucky’s mouth.

Then Steve pulled his fingers out again, poured more lube over his fingers and Bucky’s asshole, pressed his little finger tight against the others, and pushed in again with four fingers. Buck reared back, gasping. “What the fuck, Steve!”

Steve focused on plunging the four fingers in and out of Bucky’s hole while he focused on sucking hard on his dick head, hollowing his cheeks to ramp up the suction. Bucky got with the program, and slid his own pinkie up Steve’s ass, and Steve had to pause for a moment to absorb the feeling of being incredibly full, stretched to the limit, skin burning with the stretch.

He really kind of loved it.

He really kind of wanted _more_.

And that’s why he slid his fingers out of Bucky’s ass, grabbed the bottle of lube once more, and poured more into Bucky’s crack. Then he folded his thumb against his palm, tightened the curl of his fingers, and pressed in. The muscles balked at the girth of his hand but he stroked in and out with his right hand, soothed over the trembling flesh of Bucky’s ass and thighs with the other. He held Bucky’s cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the leaking head, suckling gently, calmly as he pushed against the muscle a little more.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly. They hadn’t talked about any of the fancier stuff, nothing about limits and preferences, nothing about kinks they wanted to try. But the way Bucky’s body tightened and stretched, pushing back against his fist at the same time Steve pushed forward, until suddenly the muscles just loosened and let him in. His fingers, including the tip of his thumb, slid in up to the second knuckle, held there by rigid muscles.

Bucky howled.

It was a weird sensation for Steve, having his whole hand coiled, partially sheathed in the hot, wet, incredibly tight channel of Bucky’s ass.

Steve pulled off his dick and asked worriedly, “You okay, Buck?”

“Fuck, yeah!” he rasped, shuddering from the intrusion. “God, Steve, I didn’t think you had it in you! More, baby, gimme more!”

Well, if that wasn’t consent, Steve had no idea what was. He grinned and sucked Buck’s dick back into his mouth. Then he gently pushed his fist in further, corkscrewing back and forth to work his way in, feeling the muscles flutter and spasm as he eased in deeper.

Buck was panting hard, as though he’d run up a mountain with Dernier on his back. Puffs of air shot over Steve’s dick, but Bucky wasn’t sucking his dick anymore. He was lost in the sensation of Steve’s fist up his ass. His own fingers were stilled in Steve’s ass, and Steve pushed back on them experimentally. 

“Sorry, I’m ignoring you,” Bucky panted. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby!” And his fingers started scissoring and curling, moving in and out of Steve’s ass. “God, that feels … geeze, I dunno, it feels fuckin’ amazing,” he breathed, his tongue coming out to flick against Steve’s slit. “You want I should –?” 

Steve jerked back and off and answered an explosive, “Yeah!” to Buck, then went back to suckling the head as he rocked his fist in and out of Buck’s asshole. He wasn’t that deep, not up to his wrist, but enough that Buck could feel him. A knuckle was nestled in against the prostate gland, and Steve made sure to brush against it each time he moved his hand, earning him a twitch and a whine from Buck each and every time.

If he’d thought he was stretched before, that was nothing compared to the way he skated up to the pain-pleasure threshold as Bucky’s tightly furled fingers pressed into him. He felt for a moment like his body would reject Bucky, and then he realized that was impossible. His body would always accept Bucky, just as his heart would, no matter how and where he pressed in against him. No matter where they were, no matter how long they’d been apart, they just fit together. He was made for Bucky, as Bucky had been made for him. He knew that to be a truth of the universe now, all the years of longing distilled into this one incredible day, but stretching into the infinity they had before them. Til the end of the line may have started out as a joke about taking the El and forgetting to get off, but it had come to mean time without end. They might as well say until the stars blinked out and even God died.

No matter what, Steve and Bucky would go on.

And then he had to stop. Everything. The pressure and the pleasure of Bucky’s fist resting in the tight, burning stretch of his ass, the feel of his mouth on him, the closeness, the realization that this was real, this was happening, they were really together, and the end of the line wasn’t a maybe but a promise … it was all just _overwhelming_. He closed his eyes and breathed, just focused on breathing. One, two, three, four. _Just breathe with me, Stevie. C’mon, just breathe. Don’t you fuckin’ stop, Stevie. Breathe._

He hadn’t felt the breath punched out of him like this since the serum, since his shitty lungs suddenly learned how to work.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, his hand stilling in Steve’s ass, his lips just ghosting over the tip of his cock. “Steve, you okay?”

Steve realized he really had just stopped, his hand just resting inside Bucky, the head of Bucky’s cock just laying on his tongue, warm and hard and leaking. “Overwhelmed,” he gritted out.

Bucky held Steve’s dick in his thumb and forefinger and turned his head to look worriedly at Steve. “Y’wanna stop?” He started to slide his hand out of Steve’s ass, and Steve’s hand shot out and caught the wrist, halting its exit and pushing it back inside, pushing deeper, past the rings of muscle, until Bucky’s whole hand was enwombed by his body. Immediately, Bucky started to twist his hand, grazing his prostate, stroking the inner walls of his ass, warming him from the inside out. 

The sensation was … indescribable. He had no comparison. No, that wasn’t right.

He felt complete. Just like he had every time he’d had a part of Bucky inside him, or he was inside Bucky in any way.

Complete.

Home.

 _Real_.

“Sorry, it was too much for a second. Feels so _much_ , y’know?”

Buck’s flesh hand was soothing along his side, down his thigh, up over the swell of his ass cheek. “Yeah. Never thought I’d get any of this, and you … you just keep givin’, Steve. Y’just keep makin’ me feel better and better. Never knew I could feel so good. Never knew I could feel so … so in love. I’ve always loved you, but right now? Feel like I’m gonna bust with lovin’ you. And not just because you got your hand up my ass like a puppet, either, Rogers,” he added with a wry7 chuckle.

Steve really, really, really needed to kiss Bucky. He pulled his hand out of Bucky’s ass, slid away from Bucky’s hand up his, and flipped around so that he could grab Bucky’s face in both his hands, holding him still so he could kiss him fiercely, passionately, pouring all the power of all the promise of the end of the line. Bucky’s arms slid around him, tightening into an iron embrace as he pulled him closer, kissing Steve back with equal fervor.

He didn’t know how long they kissed like that, but when he came up for air, he breathed against Bucky’s lips, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Bucky’s tongue swept across his bottom lip, and then he kissed him gently on the edge of his mouth. “I want you to come in mine. I want to taste you for days, baby.” He dove in to kiss Steve deeply for a while longer, and then with unspoken consent, they broke apart again, pivoted around on the bed so that each could take the other’s cock in his mouth, and they sucked each other in a matching rhythm, hips pumping gently, hands roaming, squeezing, coaxing, lips pursed and occupied with bringing hot, hard flesh to climax.

And whatever expertise was lacking in each performance, they more than made up with enthusiasm, focus, and determination. And love. 

Bucky came first, shooting across Steve’s tongue with a bitter/sweet stream that Steve swallowed with a little cough, a little gag, but he powered through it nonetheless.

Steve still suckled at the tip as Bucky came down from his orgasm, his own dick more or less forgotten in the warmth of Bucky’s mouth as he drifted back to full awareness. Steve knew that Bucky was back when he started to suck hard, head bobbing, flesh hand coming round to stroke the lower part of Steve’s cock, cybernetic hand fondling his balls, thumb caressing the expanse of his taint, catching along the lubed ridge of his asshole, and back again.

Steve’s orgasm seemed to spark along his toes, gaining momentum as it boiled up his legs, wrapped around his spine, and exploded behind his eyes as he came in shuddering, breathtaking waves.

A little while later, he found his head pillowed against Bucky’s pec, Bucky’s metal arm gently carding through his hair as Bucky placed lazy, sleepy kisses to his hair and brow.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, watching his breath pebble up Bucky’s left nipple.

“Y’can say that again, babe. Feel like I’ve had a freight train ride up my goddamn ass and come out my dick. That was amazing.”

“That sounds painful,” Steve giggled, reaching up to rub that nipple between his fingers, feeling it firm up and pop up under his attention.

“The right way. God, Steve, I never … I never knew it could be like this. I never knew we could be like this.”

“Won’t be like this every day,” Steve shook his head as he burrowed deeper into Bucky’s chest. “Life’s gonna make sure of that.”

“Then we make sure we have time for each other. Every day. We been apart too long. I … I made us apart. But I’m here now, and I ain’t never leavin’ you, punk.” He squeezed his arm around Steve’s shoulders, and kissed the crown of his head.

“I believe you,” Steve said softly, emotion welling up and threatening to rob him of speech. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Love you so fuckin’ much, Steve. Y’got no idea. But I’m gonna do everything I can to show you.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed on a sigh. “How many time’s that?”

“Seventeen.”

“Shouldn’t it be higher? I mean, we did so much that round –“

“Only came once. So number seventeen.”

“How high you aimin’?”

“I’ll tell ya when we get there. Why? Y’getting tired, old man?”

“Who you callin’ old, Barnes? You’re a year older’n me.” Steve lifted his head wearily and glared at Bucky, holding his laughter inside to look serious and threatening.

Bucky wasn’t having any of that crap. He grinned and craned up to place a kiss on the tip of steve’s nose. “Yeah, but if you’re too tired –“

“Bring it, Barnes. Fuckin’ bring it. I can out-fuck you any day of the week.”

“Didn’t know it was a competition,” Bucky answered with a delighted smile, eyes dancing with mischief. Steve was struck breathless at the realization that somehow, sometime in the past what, 12 hours or so? The Asset had fallen away, replaced by James Buchanan Barnes. When Steve imagined himself home, he wasn’t just imagining. He really was home.

“Try me,” he said softly, closing his mouth over Bucky’s. And he smiled into the kiss as Bucky’s hands came up to cradle his head and stroke gently across his shoulders. He was already planning in his head what round eighteen would be.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I started out writing to fill the 69 request, absolutely adamant I wasn't going to write fisting since I don't really get into it, and the next thing I knew ... accidental fisting. I had this image of this guy in a porn blog on Tumblr who was fingering himself, and accidentally fisted himself. The expression on his face was kind of priceless actually when it happened. 
> 
> 69 while one partner is standing actually came from a video I found on one of the porn sites. Yikes. 
> 
> Since this took so many words to deliver - hopefully not too many, as I'm not keen on overwrought sex scenes either - I've ended up leaving the next, well, couple of times to the next chapter. Hopefully I'll get to that in the next couple of weeks, and we're in the home stretch to finally put this tale to bed. Well, to sleep, perhaps. 
> 
> So, requests are closed now, but I wanted to respond to a couple that came up.
> 
> Toys. I'm not ready to write toys, since I don't really understand what a lot of them are for, and how they feel. I've read so many stories about vibrators stuck up asses with one partner being a little shit turning it up during a briefing, I think I may scream (in anguish) if I read another. I like the idea of anal beads, though. But I think that will have to wait until the sequel.
> 
> A new arm for Bucky. I love the idea, but this part of the story, starting with Steve and Bucky crashing together in the foyer of Steve's floor, actually all happens in a 24 hour period. There is no time for Bucky to get a new arm with sex toys built in, or even a shiny new arm that feels and doesn't do anything funky.
> 
> Tony walking in. Well, Tony will make another appearance, but right now, everyone in the tower is respecting the privacy of the nonagenarians. And while Jarvis isn't actively interfering, he is monitoring the two men and has assured everyone who's asked that Steve and Bucky are doing just fine, and they don't need anything. Steve's floor is still locked down - and fortunately, he ran into no one while on his pizza run. So the boys are still caught in their happy little bubble o'porn.
> 
> Sequel? Probably. It would be interesting to pick this up a year later, on their honeymoon, or at some other milestone to see how they've progressed. What manner of mischief they get up to. Maybe whether they've ever broken the record of their first night together. Because Bucky may laugh at Steve being competitive, but when it comes to Steve, Bucky's never gonna back down.
> 
> You know the drill!


	17. I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, happy birthday, Steve Rogers!
> 
> Here, have a new chapter of porn to go with your birthday cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy working on my post-CACW tale, [Threads](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6803089) and my 2016 Stuck Big Bang entry, [Architecture](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7166042) lately, and I'd missed the fact that June had already slipped into July! Someone reminded me on Tumblr, and I realized, I had the final chapter, not written, but ready to happen. So here it is, enjoy.
> 
> And the next two chapters, the final chapter and the very brief epilogue, will follow over the next few days. They are basically written already, just need some tweaking to reflect where the boys are now after nearly 18 hours of continuous loving. Thank goodness for super soldier serums, and a crack headcanon!

They kissed for what seemed like hours, and maybe they did; time was suspended between one heartbeat and the next. Sweet kisses, lips sliding over lips, tasting each other, tongues gently stroking over each other. Deep kisses, kisses that spoke volumes, breathed declarations into skin, kisses that claimed and marked and shouted for any who’d hear, that they belonged to each other so profoundly, there was no point at which one ended and the other began. Dirty kisses, tongues thrusting deep, suckling, nipping, teeth dragging along lips, across jaws, down along pulse points and muscles into the hollows of neck and shoulder. And hands. Hands were always in motion, soothing, petting, cupping, groping, pinching.

Laying mostly on top of him, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s back, hands locked on Bucky’s shoulders as Bucky kissed him deep and thoroughly, his hands massaging the swell of Steve’s ass, roughly pulling and pushing at the muscle, the meat, kneading it like particularly tasty dough. His fingers dug into the flesh, sharp pain and pressure as he spread Steve’s cheeks so he could slide two fingers up and down the cleft of his ass, stroking over the back of his balls, across his perineum, over the furl of his anus, and up over the ridge of his sacro-iliac crest, then down again. Steve sighed into the kiss, and adjusted himself so he straddled Bucky’s hips, hard cock laying hot and heavy nestled next to Bucky’s equally aroused prick, shifting back and forth to feel their dicks sliding along against each other, balls dragging down behind Bucky’s, up and over and back again.

Bucky’s right middle finger massaged at Steve’s asshole, running a circle around the hole, gently prodding at the wrinkled flesh as he slowly petted the flesh. Steve was loose and relaxed, and it didn’t feel like invasion when Bucky’s finger breached his anus so much as coming home, like this was how he belonged, open and ready and accepting of anything Bucky was willing to give him. He pushed back on the finger greedily, could feel Bucky grinning against his lips as he pulled his finger out again, ran it along the circle of muscle, and then slid two fingers in, twisting and turning them as he did, stroking the insides of Steve’s rectum, scissoring, twisting, targeting. A faint brush against his prostate made Steve gasp and shiver.

“Tell me what you want, Buck,” Steve breathed against Bucky’s neck, where he tasted skin and salt and the beat of his heart against his tongue.

“Wanna fuck you,” Bucky growled, turning his face to capture the curl of Steve’s ear between his teeth, nipping just hard enough to be playfully painful.

“Oh, God, yes,” Steve replied enthusiastically, and started to shift so he could straddle Bucky’s hips properly and line himself up to ride Bucky’s dick, but Bucky caught him before he moved too far with fingers digging into his flesh.

“No,” Bucky commanded, low and gutteral. A shiver ran through Steve at the sound of Bucky’s voice sounding so deep and wrecked, and he stilled, breath catching in his chest, but his heart thumping wildly. Bucky lifted his face up to mouth at Steve’s neck, catch the skin in his teeth and draw back, filling Steve’s awareness with sting and roiling desire and so much want he thought he’d explode from it. “Wanna do what you did to me, wanna open you up with my tongue, wanna taste you, all of you. Wanna make you cum on my tongue. Then I wanna watch you take my cock, wanna watch it fill you up til you overflow, til my cum runs out of your hole I’ve cum so hard and so much. Will ya let me do that, babydoll? Will you let me lick you wet and open, fuck you into next week, fuck your pretty hole hard and fast and deep til you’re screaming my name, til you can’t remember yours?” 

Steve felt lust lance through his entire body, hot and deep and dark, a conflagration that threatened to reduce them both to ash. He needed Bucky’s cock balls deep inside him more than he needed air. “Fu-u-u-ck,” Steve swore, turning to crash his lips against Bucky’s, drive his tongue into his mouth, and tongue fuck him so hard he could practically taste his tonsils. “Fuck, yes. I want that. I want _alla_ that. Split me wide open, baby. Make me taste you in the back of my throat. _Fuck me_ , Buck.”

“On your knees, ass up in the air,” Bucky commanded tersely, and he rolled out from under Steve while Steve scrambled to comply. As Steve settled eagerly onto his fists and knees, arching his back to show off his ass, Bucky quickly ran to the en suite, and Steve could hear the sound of running water. “Buck?” he called out, pressing his face into the Bucky-scented pillow, and breathed deep. He wanted to fill his lungs with Bucky, fill every hole, fill his head and his soul and all the days of his life to come with Bucky.

And suddenly he felt the bed dip. Turning his head to glance down toward his ass, he saw Bucky leaning on one knee on the bed, the other on the floor, his prosthetic hand resting gently on Steve’s hip. He arranged a towel between Steve’s legs – to catch his cum, he realized, his and Buck’s. He smiled to himself, appreciating the thoughtful gesture and the fact they wouldn’t have to strip another bed so fast. Practical. 

And then Steve felt the warm wetness of a washcloth held to his right side, stroking gently over his ass, his crack, fondling his balls and taint, wrapping around his dick and wiping in long, leisurely pulls. The air cooled where the cloth had passed, until Buck reversed the pattern, finally dragging the cloth back up to his hole, and then dipping in with one finger wrapped in the warm, wet cloth, probing, twisting around, and then pulling out, petting along his crack, cradling his balls for a moment, and then pulling at the head of his dick one more time before it fell away, leaving him tingling and buzzing under the skin, skin that felt hot and wet, cooling, 

“Wanna taste _you_ , not flavored lube. Feel good, baby?”

“Ye-ah,” Steve stuttered. “My dick’s getting cold, though,” he giggled.

And then he heard the faint thud of the washcloth hitting the floor as the warmth of Bucky’s big flesh hand closed over his cock, stroking lightly as he moved the foreskin back and forth over his shaft. He ran his thumb around the head, sliding it under the foreskin and smoothing a bead of pre-cum over the sensitive head. Steve moaned and thrust forward into Bucky’s hand. “Whoa, babe. Calm down. I ain’t even started yet,” he chuckled, and Steve again felt cool air move over his cock as it hung heavy between his legs as Bucky moved both hands up over Steve’s ass cheeks, stroking his thumbs over the soft skin of Steve’s crack. Steve closed his eyes and let the sensations play over his senses, the cool of the metal hand, the faint clicking and catch of the joints as Bucky’s prosthetic hand splayed over his left cheek, the thumb pressing against his hole, as the smooth, warm flesh hand pressed fingers into the right cheek. Suddenly, Buck’s hands grabbed his ass cheeks, and he squeezed, jiggling both sides. “Goddamn it, Steve, you got a gorgeous fucking ass. I never knew I was an ass man – I always loved a woman’s tits – but I _love_ your goddamn ass.”

And suddenly Steve felt the sting of Buck’s open palm slapping across the skin, then soothing over it with surprising gentleness. He did it again, this time with the metal hand, again soothed the skin. Adrenalin shot through him, leaving him feeling weightless, breathless. “Buck,” he breathed. “Do it again.”

“You like that, baby? You like a little spankin’, sweetie? I gotta give you want you want, baby.” A loud, smarting crack across his ass again, petting, again, again, again. He lost track of how many as he shot higher and higher, soaring on a sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before. 

And then he felt the flat of Bucky’s tongue sweep up over his left ass cheek, punctuated by kisses, chaste and sweet. Then the other side, and Steve felt safe, worshipped, relaxed. He thought he might be humming, an old tune from when they were young, and he heard Bucky say, “You serenading me, doll? Always loved your voice, loved you in that damn quartet. Lemme hear you, Steve. Sing for me.” And so Steve did. He sang for Bucky, words that bubbled up in his memory, melodies and tunes and rhythms from a bygone age, but a time so recent for him. Bucky hummed along as rubbed and stroked Steve’s ass, and bent his face to lick from the root of his balls up to the small of his back, the humming making Steve’s skin sing in response. And then Bucky licked him again, this time with more pressure, pausing to circle around his hole, pressing his lips to the puckered skin and sucking at it.

Buck’s hands were still occupied with Steve’s ass, and his dick was begging for friction, so he reached back and grabbed hold of his cock and started stroking it himself. Bucky seemed to realize he’d left his best guy hanging, and Steve felt flesh hand swat Steve’s hand away and take over.

“Use th’other one,” Steve muttered into the pillow.

“What’s that, baby? Gotta use your words, Stevie. Whaddya want?”

“Other hand. Wanna feel your other hand on my dick. The metal one.”

Bucky was silent for a long moment, and his tongue was taking a vacation, too. Steve whined in the back of his throat. God fucking dammit. It had all felt so amazing, and now there was nothing happening, his dick was hanging hard and neglected between his legs, and his asshole felt cold with saliva. And what? He’d freaked Bucky out by asking for his metal hand? Scared him? Hurt his feelings? Or just turned him the fuck off? “If you ain’t gonna jerk me off with your metal hand or eat me out, James Buchanan Barnes, I’m jerking my own damn self off. I’m so fucking turned on, my dick fuckin’ hurts. So either get to it, or let me,” Steve insisted, drawing in his abs to lift his torso off the bed so he was upright, twisted slightly to face Bucky.

Bucky growled, his metal hand shooting out to grab Steve by the scruff of his neck and press him down in to the pillow. Then Bucky buried his face in Steve’s ass and went to town, tongue, lips, teeth. Steve heard the pop of a lube cap, a faint sound that could be the lube pouring, and then the snick of the cap closing. The swish of skin on skin, as Bucky rubbed the lube between his big, warm palms, and suddenly Bucky wrapped his metal hand around Steve’s cock, spread the warmed lube, and started to pump slowly as his tongue probed into Steve’s ass. Steve pressed back against the tongue that fucked into his ass, tickled at the inside of his channel, swept around and slid back out to press into the skin around his hole, and then started the whole delicious sequence once more. Steve thrust forward into Bucky’s hand, relishing the hard surfaces, the coolness of the metal against his heated skin, then pressed back against Bucky’s face, trying to get his tongue to probe deeper into his ass. A tongue can only go so far, so then he was thrusting forward again. Forward and back, forward and back, lost in a haze of lust and pleasure and sensation.

His orgasm started building, rolling out from the miracle that was Buck’s tongue up his ass, sparking up his balls, and erupting out his dick before he even clocked it was happening. Buck’s hand slowed to gentle him through the aftershocks, and his tongue gradually calmed too. It was then that Steve realized he could hear the telltale slap of skin on skin as Bucky’s jerked himself off.

“Cum on me,” Steve croaked into the pillow. “Mark me up,” he added, trying to lift his head. And then Bucky’s lips left his ass, his hand fell away from Steve’s cock, and moved to smooth over Steve’s ass, the skin still heated and smarting from the spanking earlier, when the first hot drop fell, then a torrent, spattering across his ass, his hole, dripping down his taint into his balls. A long, low groan accompanied the sensation of Bucky’s spend marking him, the sound of the hand growing fainter as he worked through the dregs of his orgasm.

Then Steve felt Bucky’s tongue again, licking, swirling, lapping, cleaning Steve up of the cum that Buck had shot all over him. He shivered with desire, and tightened his abs again to raise himself up from the bed to press back against Bucky’s chest, feeling the squelch of the cum that Bucky hadn’t cleaned off but not giving any fucks. He lifted his chin to capture Bucky’s mouth with his, tongue sweeping through Bucky’s mouth to taste him. He felt Bucky’s fingers swipe along his hole, and when Buck tilted his face and offered him two cum-slicked fingers; he opened his mouth and greedily sucked them in, licking the cum off and swirling his tongue around the fingers, letting the taste of Bucky’s jizz fill his mouth and slide down his throat. Then he pulled off both fingers and breathed, “God, that was fuckin’ hot, Buck. Eighteen’s a keeper.”

“Wait ‘til nineteen. I gotta get my cock in your ass, Steve. I gotta fuck you,” he growled, and Steve could feel the blunt head of Buck’s circumcised dick pressing against his hole. He hole was loose and wet and ready, fluttering in anticipation of being filled with the length and breadth of Bucky’s beautiful cock.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me like you never fucked anyone else. I wanna feel you into next week. I wanna walk funny for days. I want you to fuckin’ _wreck me_ , Buck.”

“Oh, baby. You say the sweetest things,” Bucky groaned, then he kissed Steve one more time, deep and dirty, then shoved him face down into the pillows again and pressed in.

&&&

Bucky had never fucked anyone like this before. Before Steve, it had always been women, women he tried to bury his deviance in, hide his true face away so no one would see how broken he was, how sick. And yet, in this modern world, that wasn’t sick, it was just sad. He didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to hide. He could show how much he loved Steve Rogers, could love him in all the ways a man could love another man. He could enjoy his body, and let his own body be enjoyed in turn.

In other words, this was a fuckin’ wonderful time to find himself alive and out of Hydra’s clutches. He held the head of his dick in the curl of his flesh fist, working it over slowly as he leaned in toward Steve’s ass. The angle was different from fucking a woman, the preparation sure as fuck was. And Steve didn’t have curves and soft padding and a flowery scent, the lingering combination of starch and talcum and hair shellac that he remembered from the women he’d fucked. Steve was power and muscle and smooth skin and a clean, spring apple scent. His hole opened and closed, opened and closed, like it was breathing, like it was a living thing. Like it was inviting him in.

His head was having some difficulty processing the fact that this hole was something he could have, that he didn’t need to look away or feel bashful or ashamed. He held his breath as he pressed against Steve’s hole, pressed, pressed, and then felt the muscles give, release, relax, and let him in. The head of his cock breached the muscles of the anus, and he felt the hot, slick, velvety walls of Steve’s ass envelop him, snugging him in just right, and then it just sort of pulled him in as he felt Steve breathe, slow and even. He watched with fascination as his dick disappeared into Steve’s ass, inch by inch, the warm, wet walls closing around him, holding him tight, holding him with a tension that was almost more than he could bear. And all the while, Steve _breathed_. 

That in itself was a miracle, and he threw up a thanks to whoever was listening for letting him live to see this, to feel this, to share this with Steve. To feel Steve’s lungs under his hands splayed across his chest, working true and strong and clear, to taste his heartbeat under his lips as he leaned forward to press them against Steve’s back, steady, steady, steady.

He was bent over Steve’s back, wrapping himself around Steve’s heaving from, and shifted to press his cheek against Steve’s hair as he caught the lobe of Steve’s ear in his teeth. 

“You feel so fucking good around my dick, babydoll. I could wear you like this all the time,” he breathed against the skin of Steve’s neck.

Steve whined back at him. “Tol’ you. Wan’y’up my ass alla time. Bucky Barnes’s own personal fuck toy.”

Bucky nibbled at Steve’s ear, sucked a bruise into the skin of his neck, mouthed along the cord of muscle, and sank his teeth in to Steve’s shoulder. “ _Mine_ ,” he growled, low and guttural and thoroughly primal. In that moment, he’d’ve killed anyone who tried to come between him and his Steve. Him and his mate, the other half of his soul. His. Til the end of the line and beyond. _His_.

He felt an overwhelming need to possess, to mark, to _claim._

“You ready, baby?”

“Ughn-hghn,” Steve replied, nodding his head vigorously against the pillow.

Bucky kissed his cheek one last time, and then release Steve, let go the searing warmth across his chest and abdomen, straightening with his hand clamped around the back of Steve’s neck, the other on the small of Steve’s back, holding him in position as he huffed out a, “Love you, baby,” and then he began to _move_.

It wasn’t sweet, and it wasn’t romantic, but it was full of love and lust and longing. There were no heart eyes dancing around his head, nor a dewy blush to his skin as he fucked into Steve’s ass with speed, and power, and force. But they made music together, sounds that belonged only to them, and no one else. But the sound of skin slamming into skin, the slap of his balls bouncing off Steve’s, the grunt of surprise and approval he scraped out of Steve’s lungs, the fucking wail Steve gave when Bucky manhandled his ass into a new angle, and found himself drilling Steve’s prostate … none of it compared to the way that Steve’s ass took him silently, took everything he dealt it, accepted the pounding as he pistoned in and out, in and out, harder, faster, brutal in intensity. Gave him everything he was and everything he could be, past, present, and potential in the moment.

Beneath him, pressed into the pillows by his unforgiving cybernetic arm, Steve gasped and whined and howled and cried. Steve flung up his arms to grapple with the headboard to hold himself in place because with every thrust, Bucky forced him further up the bed, and if Steve didn’t lock his elbows, Bucky would be driving his head right through the fucking headboard, and maybe the wall beyond.

Steve’s ass was tight around his cock, walls tightening, compressing, massaging Bucky’s dick, milking it, claiming it for its own. His cock was as much Steve’s as Steve’s ass was his. And vice versa. 

And then all he knew was the animal instinct of fuck and claim, thrust and thrust again. He slapped his right hand a couple of times across Steve’s ass, and Steve jerked and bore down on his dick, making Bucky grunt and swear, the sensation so intense, so good. Bucky had a fleeting realization that Steve wasn’t the only one getting wrecked. His entire existence narrowed down to the sensation of Steve’s ass around his cock, the slap of his balls against the back of Steve’s thighs, against Steve’s balls, and his right hand holding onto Steve’s hip holding him steady so he could just keep going.

And then there was lightning in his veins, a rolling ball of St. Elmo’s Fire setting his blood ablaze. He felt his balls tighten, spasm, empty out into Steve’s ass, wave after wave of cum, so much he was vaguely aware of it oozing out around his pistoning dick, dripping down into his balls, onto Steve’s balls, spattering onto the towel. And still he was cumming, painting the inside of Steve’s ass with thick white jizz. Painting, “Bucky Barnes was here and he intends to stay.”

And then he was floating, watching himself from above, admiring how well they fit together, how perfect they looked, how everything that had happened was somehow okay because it brought them to this point. And then it was like he slammed back into his body, into awareness of the intensity of his orgasm, and then than intensity overwhelmed his senses, and everything disappeared in a wash of brilliant white light.

&&&

Kisses.

He came to to the sensation of kisses. Butterfly kisses on his eyelids, tip of his nose, along the seam of his lips, the cut of his jaw, and down his neck. Reverent kisses to the place where metal joined flesh. Playful kisses across his chest, lingering kisses on his nipples, a hint of tongue flicking out to tease at the tender flesh. Soft kisses that trailed down his abdomen, swirled around his navel, and then a tongue dragging down his treasure trail to his awakening dick. Breath upon the shaft, a brush of soft hair, lips in the seam of his thigh, a nose pressing into his balls and breathing him in.

As far as ways to wake up go, it was a winner. Top ten. Maybe number one with a bullet.

He reached out a shaky hand to thread his fingers through Steve’s hair, petting it clumsily and cupping the back of his head to press Steve’s face closer to his dick.

“Someone’s awake,” Steve chuckled, and shifted so he rested his chin on his fist, braced on Bucky’s abdomen.

“Fuck you.”

“You just did. Was thinkin’ maybe I could ride you again. I wanna watch you cum – it’s amazin’ you takin’ me like that, but I didn’t get to see your face. I kinda like your face. I ‘specially like your O face. You’re a beautiful man, Bucky Barnes. ‘Specially when you cum. I like lookin’ at you.”

“You wanna ride me. Your ass can take another fucking?”

“I know where you been, and I was really leakin’ jizz – you shot a _load_ in my ass, Buck! But I cleaned us both up, and I ain’t so sloppy anymore.”

Bucky couldn’t explain the sudden disappointment that news brought him. Some primitive part of his lizard brain liked the idea of Steve filling up with his cum, pumped so full of it he could taste it on the back of his tongue, that it’d dribble out of him with every step, stain the suit maybe. Dark patch where Buck marked him with his “seed,” so everyone knew who Steve belonged to, who fucked him. Who filled him up just right.

“So? I ain’t gonna do anything without your consent, Buck. I’ll do all the work. I just … I just need to watch you when we fuck. Need to see your face, need to look into your eyes. Need to know you’re with me, baby,” he added softly, reaching up with his hand to draw a finger gently along Bucky’s jawline.

“So I do what? Lay back and think of England?”

“Lay back and think of how much I love you. How much I wanna spend every day of my life with you showin’ you how much I love you.”

“I like the sound of that. An’ I’m gonna do the same – spend every day showin’ you how much I fuckin’ love you, punk. I ain’t sure how much I got left in the tank – I didn’t think I was gonna stop cummin’ that last time – but I love watching you on my cock. Ride me, baby. Milk my dick for every drop of cum I can give you.”

Steve grinned, a feral, heated grin, and Bucky felt an answering heat coil in his gut. Was every day going to be like this, where just looking at Steve was enough to make him hard, make him practically cream his pants?

If so, he’d take it.

And if not, he’d take that, too. Just for another day with Steve. Even if they could never do this again, never fuck, kiss, or hold each other, he’d take whatever the universe had to offer so long as he could have it with Steve.

Even better if it came with the feel of his skin against his, the push and pull of sex so intense, his brain melted in his skull. 

Yeah, he’d take it however it was.

Steve slicked up his hands with the lube, rolling the viscous fluid between his palms to warm it, and then he grasped Bucky’s prick and smoothed the lube on with firm, fast strokes. Then Steve lifted himself up to straddle Bucky, positioning his hole over where Bucky’s cock lifted proud and hard yet again in salute to the Star Spangled Man with a Plan and his magnificent dick, his gorgeous pecs, his beautiful, stupid face, and that soul that never dimmed, not to him, not once, in nearly a century. 

“Eyes on me, soldier,” Steve commanded lightly. “I wanna see your eyes, jerk,” he added, squatting over Bucky’s pelvis, holding Bucky’s dick in his fist as he maneuvered the head to his hole. Steve was still stretched and fucked out, and Bucky slid home without any hesitation. Home, because that’s what Steve was, not just a hole to fuck, not just a body, not just lips or skin or all the rest. _Steve_ was _home_ , Bucky’s home, had been always and forever. 

A moment longer, and Steve had slid down the full length of Bucky’s cock, and was resting some of his weight on Bucky. He rotated his hips, grinding onto Bucky, and the sensation was different but thoroughly delicious. Steve had his hands loosely resting on his thighs, but he leaned forward and slid them up Bucky’s chest, pinching and rolling his nipples with the thumb and forefinger of each hand. 

Bucky gasped, not breaking gaze with Steve, but feeling the urge to thrust up into the tight heat of him. His hips must have jerked, because Steve shook his head, drawing his hands away from Bucky’s nipples to settle on his hip bones. “No. Said I was doing all the work. I wanna, Bucky. I gotcha.”

Bucky nodded, emotion welling up in his chest. Love. Adoration. Trust. Desire.

“I know, Steve. I know you got me. I got you, too. Whenever you’re ready.” Bucky lifted his hands and placed them on Steve’s thighs, then ran them up and down the length of those thighs, soothing, signaling, claiming.

Steve undulated his hips, lifting himself a few inches up Bucky’s cock, then gently rolling back down onto his dick. Again and again he ground down on Bucky, drawing groans and moans and hisses and gasps. It was slower than the last time, more intimate. He could feel every inch of Steve’s ass around him, the delicious slide of cock inside ass. Steve lifted up and leaned down on his hands and moved a little faster, a little harder, from this new angle, and Bucky found he loved this new angle as much as the last. Steve bore down at a different angle, a different degree of pressure and muscle reaction. It was heady and delicious. As Steve paused to change it up again, this time rotating his hips over Bucky’s pelvis, dragging his dick in a swirling arc, Bucky pressed in his thumbs as he stroked up and down Steve’s legs, smiling.

“Kiss me?”

“Always,” and Steve leaned down to lick across his lips and plunder his mouth with his tongue as they kissed languidly, tongues stroking against each other softly, unhurriedly. He loved kissing Steve. And the calm way that Steve pleasured himself on Bucky’s dick … he could do that all day. It felt good, gentle, sweet, without urgency. He reached down between them and fondled Steve’s balls where they rested on his abdomen, his thumb running up and down the thick vein on the underside of Steve’s cock. He loved the feel of Steve’s cock in his hand, warm, solid flesh, smooth, soft skin. Thick and weighty. He loved the feel of the foreskin sliding back and forth under his hand, the pearly fluid that collected at the head, and the silky sensation of spreading it with his thumb over the bulbous head of Steve’s cock.

Hell, he just loved everything about Steve. As Steve’s thighs flexed and squeezed against his torso, as his ass lifted and fell, his pelvis grinding against his, as his lips moved and licked and kissed against his … well, he couldn’t think of a single ting he didn’t love about Steve. Maybe outside of the coital haze, he’d think of something, but whatever it was, it was inconsequential.

He loved Steve.

_He loved Steve._

And as Steve accelerated his shift back and forth, up and down, as Steve’s kisses became more heated, as their bodies slid against each other warm, and firm, and most assuredly there, as Steve’s dick blurted out another stream of cum over his hand and across his abdomen, as his own cock twitched and spent again up Steve’s ass, Bucky knew one thing, immutable and real.

Steve loved him back.

_Steve loved him._

&&&

Food.

Their bodies were demanding fuel, urgently and loudly. Awoken from a sex-induced coma by the sound of Steve’s stomach gurgling, demanding attention, Bucky jerked awake to recognize his own stomach was feeling cavernously empty.

As one, they scrambled out of bed, each heading to a different bathroom to relieve themselves and freshen up, and by unspoken assent, met back in the kitchen to raid the fridge.

Leftover pizza was consumed cold, shoved into hungry mouths while the rest heated up in the oven. Beers were opened, bottles clinked together toasting something they didn’t name, and slowly, gradually, the aching maw of hunger was satisfied.

With stomachs full, the taste of beer and pizza lingering on their palates, it didn’t take long for them to start kissing and touching again, enjoying the feel of skin on skin, hardness sliding against hardness, because of course, neither of them had thought to pull on boxers or t-shirts, and they’d both consumed their weight in pizza buckass nude.

They were languidly kissing, dicks pressed together and shifting deliciously against each other, hands roaming and mapping out the contours of each other’s skin when the lust-filled silence was suddenly broken by Jarvis’s inquiring voice.

“Sirs, Sir would like to know if you are ready to ‘come up for air’ yet.”

Steve groaned and slid his face sideways to answer, while Bucky took the opportunity to slide down his neck with kisses and nips and licks. “How long’s it been, Jarvis?”

“Seventeen hours, thirty-seven minutes, sir.”

“Wow, twenty orgasms in seventeen hours, thirty-seven minutes,” Bucky murmured into the hollow of Steve’s throat.

“Personal best?” Steve chuckled low in his throat, a sound that went directly to Bucky’s dick.

“Mighta broken a record or two. Could do a couple more,” Bucky answered, licking his way back up Steve’s neck to suckle on Steve’s earlobe.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Ever try couch sex?”

“Couch sex.”

“Yeah, we’re not confined to the bedroom, Buck. Time we christened the whole fucking apartment, don’t you think?”

“Start to, anyway. So no to bending you over the counter and fucking you stupid right here?”

“Maybe later. Right now, I want to fuck you into the couch cushions. I hear you can get some great leverage, some great penetration that way.”

“Those couch cushions are never gonna be the same. Our pillow forts – “

“Next time. I’ll fuck you in the pillow fort next time.”

“Sirs, does that mean the answer is no?” Jarvis pressed, a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Jarvis, that would be a hell, no,” Bucky agreed, turning to capture the soft skin under Steve’s jaw in his teeth, and sucking gently.

“I will inform Sir, gentlemen.”

“Wait, is he really askin’ about us, waitin’ for a reply?”

“Captain Rogers, the entire collected Avengers are waiting for a response, as is Director Coulson and his team.”

“Shit, Stevie, we got ourselves a fan club.”

“Ugh, and every one of ‘em is thinkin’ about us havin’ sex,” Steve agreed, blushing a deep red.

“Jarvis, tell ‘em Captain Rogers and I are makin’ up for lost time. We got a lifetime of lovin’ to catch up on. We’ll be done when we’re done.”

“Yes, sirs. And may I say, congratulations for finding each other at last.”

“That wasn’t Tony.”

“No, sirs. The sentiment is mine. I shall miss our late night talks, Sergeant Barnes, but I am content to see you happy at last, sir.”

“I … thank you, J. For everything,” Bucky replied, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes, emotion tightening his chest. Steve laid a hand on his chest, took his chin gently in the other and tipped his face for a sweet, soft kiss.

“And from me,” Steve said softly. “Thank everyone for us. We are. Both of us. Happy at last.”

“It will be my honor and pleasure to convey your message, Captain Rogers. Good morning, sirs.”

As one, Bucky and Steve broke off their kiss and turned toward the floor to ceiling windows, registering for the first time that it was indeed morning.

“We fucked the night away,” Bucky whispered, his voice on the edge of a giggle. “It really _is_ morning.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, the warmth puffing across Bucky’s ear, giving him shivers. “Wanna fuck the morning away, too?”

“Hell, yeah.”

&&&

It turned out that what Steve had read about couch fucking was every bit as true as the fantasy he’d build up in his head. With Bucky’s ankles resting on his shoulders, his legs flung wide and his ass pulled just over the edge of the towel-covered couch cushions, Steve had ploughed hard and deep, practically setting Bucky’s prostate on fire with friction and power, folding Bucky in half so he could kiss him filthy and repeatedly. They’d cum shuddering, spilling geysers of sticky fluid, leaving Steve to wonder absently if the serum somehow increased semen production at the same time he was glad they’d thought to put down towels on the couch and the floor. Because as Steve slid out of Bucky’s abused hole, followed by a thick stream of cum, he thought that was one stain that wasn’t coming out otherwise …

Twenty-one made the list for repeats, too, and as Bucky lowered his legs to the floor, groaning in complaint at the odd angle. Steve snuggled up against him, and somehow they found themselves tangled together, half on the couch, half off, spent, sleepy, and content.

For the moment.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really bittersweet for me to realize that we are truly coming to an end. No more requests, no more delays. The last chapter, written over 18 months ago, will finally be posted, with a little bit of editing, sometime in the next couple of days. And the epilogue, which is new, something that presented itself a month or so ago, will be posted as well. And this journey will have come to an end. 
> 
> I don't think I could ever write anything so smut-filled again. I think I may be smutted out. But damn, was it fun to get it to this point!
> 
> Comments would be really, really nice. I'm feeling kind of oddly bereft now, and I know that's going to actually be worse as I post the next two sections - truly the last two sections. This has been an emotional journey for me, made more so by the events in my personal life, but also because of the incredible support and affection I've felt from so many folks while working through this tale. And seeing how Bucky reclaims himself in the midst of loving Steve. I think this maybe the closest I'll ever write to the "magic healing cock," but more than anything, it's been "magic healing love." Not just for Bucky, but for me, too. 
> 
> I will always be grateful that it was Steve and Bucky fandom I found myself in when I needed it most. :)


	18. I’m With You ‘Til …

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the final chapter.
> 
> It's not very long, but it is heartfelt.
> 
> It's been a long, strange road with this story, sometimes painful, sometimes cathartic, sometimes wildly cracky. Only a brief epilogue to go, and the journey is over. Thank you for being my companions on the way.
> 
> May the road ever rise up to meet you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with some minor tweaks, this is what I had written back in November 2014 when my life went to shit and I couldn't write this anymore. It took nearly 18 months to be able to come back to it, and I love what I've written. I can tell you, I would not have been able to write the 30,000+ words of super soldier porn that I did - not as well, and not as enthusiastically. It's been a wonderfully educational and cathartic experience.
> 
> But at its core, this is a love story. Crazy, wild, and weird, but a love story just the same. From me to you.

Falling asleep sprawled on together after each of them having cum what seemed like buckets might not have been the best plan for the morning. The apartment was awash in mid-morning light, and Steve and Bucky were stuck to each by the glue that was dried cum. There was a lot of, “Yuck!” and, “Ow!” as they pried themselves apart, and, “Oh, God, some more leaked out,” when Bucky tried to move, and, “I blame you,” when he stood and the towel stuck to his ass. But they didn’t need to discuss it as they both headed for the walk-in shower, and there was no discussion when Bucky sank to his knees to mouth at Steve’s dick, stroking his hands in languid motions over Steve’s ass and crack.

“You’re insatiable,” Steve breathed, slamming his head back against the tiles as Bucky worked him over.

“I can’t help it if your dick tastes so good. I’m not insatiable. You’re irresistible,” he countered, and then swallowed Steve whole.

As Bucky breached Steve’s hole with his middle finger, Steve gasped then chuckled. “You’re just trying to distract me from the fact you’re openin’ me up again. Y’must want somethin’, Barnes.”

Bucky pulled off his cock and nosed along the length, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the hot, hard skin. “Want you. Alla time. But yeah. Wanna fuck you again.”

“Nothin’ stoppin’ you,” Steve told him huskily, looking down and running his fingers through Bucky’s wet hair, tracing down the line of his cheek bone with his index finger. “You know how I feel about your cock in me.”

“Not here.” Bucky took all of Steve again, his nose working into the soft hairs of Steve’s pubic area, his fingers gently working Steve’s sac, thumb stroking against his taint while his other hand pressed a second finger into his hole.

“Oh, God, Buck! Oh, fuck, that’s good. Shit-fuck, I’m not gonna last –“

“Then don’t, baby,” Bucky said, pulling back so just the head rested on his tongue. He held it in his flesh hand and licked at the head like an ice cream cone. “You need to cum, you cum,” he told Steve, then dove down again, swallowing around the head as Steve cried out and came again.

&&&

Bucky was drowsy from the heat of the shower and the heat of Steve’s dick in his mouth again, and Steve tried to steer him back to the bedroom, back to their warm, soft bed. But Bucky was determined to hit that magic 22, and fuck Steve against the windows with New York laid at his feet like a goddamned gift, all tied up in light.

“How come?” Steve had asked as Bucky crowded him sleepily toward the window. 

“F’r science,” he’d answered muzzily, nudging Steve up against the enormous plate glass windows, pressing up against him, feeling his dick fill up and harden against the crease of Steve’s ass, and mouthing at the juncture of Steve’s neck and shoulder. Bucky couldn’t get enough of the taste of Steve, and he left a smear of saliva over Steve’s skin as he trailed open-mouthed kisses and licks down the side of Steve’s neck.

“Geeze, Buck, it’s cold!” Steve complained when he was pressed right up against the glass.

Bucky reached around and palmed Steve’s cock as he slid home into Steve’s slick and pliant hole. Fucked out as they were, it really was like sliding home, like they’d always been meant to fit together, just like this. Steve leaned back against Bucky as he gently rocked in and out, barely moving, but feeling the welcoming heat, the snug fit of Steve’s loosened muscles embracing him, holding him fast. He could stay this way forever, buried in Steve’s ass, face pressed against his shoulder blades, skin hot against his lips, dick thickening in his hand.

“Mmm. Feels nice,” Steve murmured, shifting his hips back and forth in time to Bucky’s barely-there thrusts. Steve reached back to slide his hands up and down Bucky’s ass and thighs, just touching, grounding, soft. “I’d like to fall asleep with you in me, but I don’t want to fall over doin’ it, Buck.”

“Mmmph,” Bucky snuggled close, wrapping arms around Steve’s middle, still gently stroking Steve’s cock without any discernible rhythm. His hips stuttered, uncoordinated, as he continued to move on autopilot, in and out, small movements that just felt good, no urgency, not even lustful, just pleasant rubbing of parts against parts, give and take.

“Buck …”

“Want the whole city to see you’re mine,” Bucky breathed against Steve’s neck. “I want fuckin’ Trump to look out his window, and see you takin’ my cock.”

“Windows are polarized. Nobody can look in,” Steve chuckled, swaying back and forth in counterpoint to Bucky’s gentle thrusts.

“Don’t care. I can see out,” He lifted his face to rest his chin on Steve’s shoulder, hands gently palming Steve’s pecs and drifting down his abs. “I want to fuck you with all of New York laid out at our feet. Like we own this town, baby. We lived, we survived. Fuck everyone who tried to keep us apart. We’re better than ever.”

“We are,” Steve agreed, letting his head face back to rest his cheek against Bucky’s, one hand folding over Bucky’s and bringing it to settle over his heart.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s skin, then proceeded to place a series of warm, wet kisses along the width of Steve’s left shoulder.

“I love you, too. Always have. Always will,” Steve murmured back, twisting his neck so Bucky could find his lips and kiss him deeply, thoroughly, lovingly.

They made out that way, awkwardly twisted, pressed up against the outer window, Bucky’s one hand still held over Steve’s heart, the other stroking absently at Steve’s dick. Neither of them seemed to notice it was the prosthetic hand that was sliding up and down Steve’s shaft.

They continued this way for a while, gentle, unhurried, sleepy. Until Steve pulled back from the kiss, and nearly laughed at the sight of Bucky’s chin resting on his shoulder, his eyes closed, his mouth open, almost asleep.

Carefully, like a dance from the old days where they’d just sort of swayed into each other’s orbits, Steve shuffled them around so he was facing toward the bedroom, and Bucky was still clinging to him, still pulling absently at Steve’s cock, still languidly stroking in an out like breathing. He tried to move them forward, an awkward frog march, until Bucky slipped out and stumbled behind Steve, half-awake and half-asleep already. Steve took the opportunity of the separation to pull Bucky forward and wrap himself around him, and guided them both toward their bed.

Their bed.

Where fresh sheets that Steve had hurriedly pulled on before they’d jumped in the shower again, replaced the old ones that were seriously wrecked and not a little rank.

Their bed.

Where they could touch and stroke and fondle and cuddle as much as they wanted to, and no one could say fuck all about it.

Their bed.

Where they were allowed now. They were allowed everywhere now. Because they’d managed to survive into the present day where a man who preferred fellas had a chance to make it, to make it a better world for everyone, like them or no.

Their bed.

Where Steve plopped down and pulled Bucky on top of him, a tangle of limbs and mouths and cocks as they shifted and wriggled into a comfortable position, lips nuzzling sleepily and cocks sliding pleasantly against each other, no heat, no urgency, just closeness because they could, because that was home and that’s what they both wanted, no artifice or posturing, just simple coming together because that what they were always meant to be.

Together.

“Still want that twenty-two,” Bucky murmured into Steve’s skin.

“When we get up. Still got another 6 hours left in the 24 hours,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s hair, brushing his lips across the strands and breathing, “I love you,” against his scalp.

“Love you, too, baby,” Bucky sighed into Steve’s skin.

Then they shifted softly, Bucky rolling off Steve, and Steve rolling onto his side, Bucky curving around him as the big spoon. Almost absently, Bucky pulled Steve’s cheeks apart and slid back in, snugging himself deep inside.

“Mmm, that feels good.”

“Said you wanted t’fall asleep with me inside you,” Bucky reminded him, shimmying a little closer so his dick was fully sheathed inside Steve’s gloriously warm ass. “Y’keep it warm for me.”

In answer, Steve reached around and took Bucky’s right hand in his, and drew it down to rest of his cock and balls. “Y’do the same,” he murmured, and Bucky pressed his face against Steve’s shoulder blade, smiling as he curved his hand to gently cup his lover’s junk. He caressed softly, stroking idly, and then his hand stilled, the flat of his palm curled around the girth of Steve’s cock, his fingers curved to hold his balls gently in a warm embrace.

And then his breathing evened out, just as Steve’s did. And wrapped in each other, sleep took them and held them gently, without nightmare, without fear, together.

In their bed.

Together.

Til the end of the line.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was short, and the epilogue will be even shorter. We are, really at the end.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	19. Epilogue:  I Will Always Love You ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end. It ended up being longer than I expected, and maybe not as funny as I thought it was going to be, but it works for me. I hope it works for you as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking this journey with me. Whether you've stuck with me since the beginning, joined in progress, or waited until the story was complete to read it, thank you for your kudos, your bookmarks, your comments, and your support.
> 
> I actually had a bit of a panic attack as I was preparing this final chapter to post. My chest hurts with anxiety. It's hard to let this go after so long. But it's time. It's ready to be done. I'll get there, too. :)

At some point, they’d separated, Steve had rolled over, Bucky had slipped out, and each of them had curled away from each other. They weren’t used to sleeping together, there was no habit of touching in their sleep, they weren’t used to having each other near. It was something that would come, he thought, as awareness crept up on him and he realized his dick was limp and cold laying against his thigh, his hand settled at his side, no part of his body actually touching the glowing embers of Steve’s body.

But he felt so comfortable, so at home, the sensation was shocking. This was where he belonged. This was where he’d always belonged, he’d just been too blind to see it. 

But Steve had always known, had always hoped. Had always waited.

And now, as the day gilded the room in a wash of gold as soft as the color of Steve’s hair, he could see. He could touch. He could have. 

But right now, he needed to take a piss, and he needed to get something to eat, in that order.

Bucky slid quietly out of the bed and headed to the bathroom where he took care of business quickly. Then he stood leaning against the door jamb for a few moments, arms crossed comfortably over his chest, hands sort of hugging himself as he allowed himself to just stand and watch. Watch Steve breathe, steady and deep, a faint whistle where his mouth fell open just a smidge. His thick lashes lay fanned across his cheeks, and Bucky was struck, not for the first time, at just how beautiful Steve Rogers was. Not Captain America, but Steve. How beautiful Steve had always been.

An easy, relaxed, and loving smile spread across his face, a smile that felt right, felt good, felt earned. He’d spent so much time telling himself he didn’t deserve, he hadn’t realized he’d punished Steve as well as himself. But now … now he knew that was something he couldn’t do again. And the thought of all the days – and nights – ahead of him, shared with Steve, filled him with a joy he hadn’t thought himself capable of feeling. It bubbled through his veins and shone through his skin, and made music in the air he breathed.

In love. That’s what he was. Simply and irrevocably, in love.

And hungry. And he knew that Steve would be hungry when he woke. But they’d demolished everything in the kitchen the last time they’d refueled. And if he was gonna get his magic 22, he was going to have to make sure that Steve was fueled and ready to go. His own personal rocket, he thought, suppressing a giggle. He didn’t want to wake Steve just yet – he was going to need his rest for what Bucky had planned for the next 2 hours.

But still. Hungry. In need of provisions.

He looked down at himself and saw the expanse of skin, naked as the day the midwife delivered him to his Mama’s arms. He was not in the mood for dressing up to meet some delivery person.

Stark’s floor was catered, 24/7. He knew because he’d often availed himself of the feast laid out for anyone who was hungry, at any hour of the day or night. 

Takeout a la Stark it was.

And all he had to do was throw on a pair of Sleeping Beauty’s sweats, and he was in business.

&&&

When Bucky arrived on the main level where Stark kept the big TV, the good liquor, and the neverending buffet, he was taken aback to find the level occupied. It was past noon, but not late enough for dinner – he still had a little less than two hours before their 24 was up, and he planned to take every advantage and then some.

But, he should have thought to query Jarvis about who was present on the level – he’d been distracted with the promise of another round of incredible sex with his incredibly sexy … boyfriend, he guessed. Lover. Fiancé. They’d talked marriage in the heat of the moment, and as he exited warily from the elevator, he realized that that’s what he wanted above all – to be married to Steve, to share his name and his home and all the days of his life. 

It was really pretty awesome to have his whole life planned out in the best possible way. He couldn’t contain the grin that suddenly split his face, and apparently sent up a flare so that Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, looked up from her phone where she’d been playing some game or other, and speared him in her gaze. Then she blew a bubble and let it pop before uncoiling herself from the sofa to sit up straight and consider him like a naughty child.

Well, he’d been naughty.

And he’d been nice.

And he liked sugar, and he liked spice. And he needed fuel if he was getting any more.

So, he let the grin fade to a gentle smile, and stalked across the space toward the buffet table, and started to fill up two plates, picking stuff that he thought Steve would like, fuel-efficient foods, and stuff that just looked interesting.

“I recommend the pierogis. They come from a Polish deli in Queens. Make sure you grab some sour cream.”

He glanced toward the little potato dumplings swimming in butter and onions, and he had to admit they looked delicious. He could picture the butter running down Steve’s chin, and leaning forward to lick it off him and …

“Impressive,” she said.

Oh?

“Always,” he answered without inflection. He didn’t know what she meant, but it didn’t matter – impressive was an adjective he could rock.

Her eyes raked over him, taking in every detail. The low-slung sweats, the healing scratches, the fading bruises, the kiss-swollen lips, the loose way he moved, like every fear and paranoia had somehow been lifted from his shoulders – because they had, goddammit. He’d had every tension, every fear, every doubt fucked right out of him. He’d been more concerned about Steve hating him if he found out how he felt than even Hydra taking him back somehow. And now he knew that Steve reciprocated? Fucking euphoric didn’t even come close to how he felt. And he didn’t have a fuck to spare for who knew about it.

But that didn’t mean that Steve would be so blithe about it. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it, to set the boundaries, agree on strategy. So he needed to suss out the terrain, get the temperature, and report back. After the next round, of course.

“What’re you lookin at?”

“I didn’t know Rogers had it in him. Or did he have it in you?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Pretty sure a gentleman doesn’t leave teeth marks … _there_ ,” she commented, placing her finger in the middle of a bruise on his left ass cheek, just visible over the drooping waistline of the sweats. “Like I said, impressive. And really amazed that Rogers kept his orientation a secret for so long. If I’d known he swung this way, I would’ve set him up with a very cute guy from Ops.”

“No secrets. Nobody asked.”

She helped herself to a glass of iced tea, pondering him as she spritzed some lemon into the glass, and twirled the straw in it for a moment before taking a sip. “You mean _you_ never asked. You didn’t know?”

Bucky paused for a moment as he filled the plates. He’d already noticed a bigger box lid tucked under the table, and gave himself a moment to consider as he bent and retrieved it, then set his plates, plus four more empty ones, inside the lid. 

“All that time, neither of you knew. But you always … ?”

Bucky drew a deep breath and nodded. He turned to her then and smiled. Her lips parted in a gasp. Whatever she saw in his face made her eyes glitter suddenly with unshed tears. “Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, I’m so happy for you.”

Well, he felt he could guess what she saw. 

Love. Pure and simple.

“I’m so happy for me, too,” he answered in an equally soft voice.

“What’s this? Cap’s sexbot’s come up for air and no one let me know, _Jarvis_! You were supposed to alert me as soon as one or the other of them came out of their sex den.” Stark, Jr. came into the space, swirling amber fluid and chunks of ice in a cut glass tumbler, all swagger and flash and testosterone. Just like his Dad.

“Yes sir. My mistake, sir.”

“You had no intention of letting me know, did you, Jarvis?” Stark asked, casting his gaze up toward the ceiling, an aggrieved expression on his face.

“No, sir. I was respecting Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s privacy, sir.”

“Since when do I care about anyone’s privacy, J?” he shrugged theatrically, then made his way over to the buffet table and leaned against the wall there. His eyes were roving, calculating, assessing. So like Howard’s in Bucky’s memory. Cocky, assured, unquestioned king of all he surveyed. A pain in Bucky’s ass, then. “So, Bucky. Buckaroo. Buckster. _Mon petit hiver_. You finally got your man. Were there bells? Choruses of angels? Do I need to restock the lube?”

Bucky considered Stark for a long moment, ignoring the snickering that Romanoff was barely containing behind her hand. They all knew that he and Steve were going to do something, so he wasn’t really exposing anything sensitive when he finally answered, “Yes, yes, and fuck yes.”

“Super tight, huh? I knew it.”

“If you think I’m givin’ you details about sex with Steve, you got another think comin’ Stark.”

“Supposedly, a gentleman never tells,” Natasha put in, sipping at her drink and toying with her straw as she smirked around it. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met a gentleman before.”

“No, but every bruise tells a story,” Tony teased, looking Bucky over. “And the sheer number of them tells me Steve has an oral fetish.”

Bucky put down the plate he was filling, placing it carefully in the box lid, and turned to look Tony Stark directly in the eyes. The response was gratifying – dilation of the pupils in fear, capillary action aiding to flush the skin pink in embarrassment. Possibly a fine tremor, but it might have been the hard liquor so early in the day. Visible increase in heart rate based on the stuttering pulse in his neck.

“I don’t make comments about your life with Pepper. You don’t make comments about my life with Steve. I don’t embarrass Pepper. You don’t embarrass Steve. Deal?”

“Yeah,” Stark agreed, having the good manners to look abashed and contrite. And Bucky knew where Tony lived – he might play the asshole, but where Pepper was concerned, he was happily whipped.

“That doesn’t apply to me –“ Natasha started, and he speared her in his baleful gaze. 

“Not one word of tease. Neither of you are costin’ me the best thing in my life fuckin’ ever because you didn’t know when to shut yer trap. Got it?”

“Whoa, Barnes. You really got it bad,” Romanoff observed, eyes widening with respect. “Steve’ll think something is up if I never tease him –“

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him. I don’t plan to have any more secrets from him.” He looked down at the six plates he’d filled and tried to decide if it was enough. It’d have to do. He figured they’d go out for dinner, one of the all-night diners that Steve liked to go to. He hadn’t been out of the tower for months, and the idea of an outing suddenly sounded like fun.

“No secrets policy, huh? Nothing good’ll come of it. A man’s always gotta have something to call his own.”

“That’s you. The only thing I want to call my own is Steve.” Bucky was surprised when Natasha rose up _on pointe_ and kissed him softly on the cheek.

“That’s more like it. I’m proud of you, Barnes. Enjoy the pierogis.” And then she was gone, tumbling over the back of the sofa to reclaim her place. He heard her pop another bubble. Did she do that without spilling her tea?

“So. Refueling. Round two?”

Bucky just looked at him in silence for a moment that stretched on long enough to make Stark uncomfortable. At length, he shook his head, grabbed a shrimp and dragged it through cocktail sauce, and popped it in his mouth, still looking at Bucky. Bucky smiled, and picked up his box lid with its six overflowing plates of food. Without another word, he turned and started back toward the elevator.

“Tell Steve we’re all happy for him. You, too. You guys deserve all the happiness. Being old and all!”

Bucky paused, just shy of the elevator. Then he turned, his grin feral and wide. “Sure thing, Stark. And round 2? Yeah, I don’t think so. Try _round 22_. But who’s counting?” He swung around and closed the gap to the elevator with a little wiggle to his walk, to the sound of a heavy glass hitting the floor and shattering into shards, and Natasha’s giggle. 

“Where to, Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis asked him pleasantly as the doors closed on the scene behind him. “Captain Rogers is awake and inquiring about you.”

“Home, Jarvis. Take me home. I got somebody waitin’ for me”

“It would be my pleasure, Bucky.”

 

 _Fini_ (for real this time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it.
> 
> One last time ... comments, please?

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, you know the drill. Comments give me life. Comments feed my soul. Comments put a big-ass grin on my face. :)


End file.
